Of Red Books, Inflatable Kayaks and Flying Tractors.

I cast my eyes about the room, everything in it's place -just the same as always. Something had to change. I thought I would go look for a new place to rent. I turned and locked the door behind me but on second thoughts, trotted down to the library instead.

Once inside I found it more like a cavernous old museum with soft lighting, and rich textile covers on displays of books. Something caught my eye -in each grouping of books (on topics like: physics, geography, quilting, art etc) there were one or two plain red volumes which struck me for their plainess. No sooner had I but gingerly fingered them than their whole contents had flipped out and toppled, Jonny5-esque,
into my brain. As it turned out these unassuming texts were the key to each topic. One had only to read them to gain a fine-and-dandy working knowledge of all things pertaining thereto (much like a less touted version of the "for Dummies" series).

After slaking my thirst at the knowledge pool, I thought it high time to get on my way. I wandered down the main street of somewhere checking out the "to lets" in the agent's windows. I chanced a glance back over my right shoulder at precisely the moment a beach ball came bounding from the roof of a multi-storied appartment complex in appearance a verdant air traffic control tower. I shaded my eyes to see, and no, they didn't deceive me for there, indeed, was not just Simon Barnett, but the whole MoreFM crew, banners, flags and loud hailers at the ready. Something was going on, I had to find out what.

To kindle my jealousy, the guy who managed to catch the wayward ball announced that he was going there to claim his prize which was an inflatable kayak. UNfair -that thing almost knocked me down and what do I get for my fright? They were drumming up a crowd and were more than pleased to see me there. Turns out they would give me a spot prize if I joined a game of leap-frog. But as it was "televised" live and I would have to submit myself to being judged, olympic style, I vehemently declined.

All was not lost. They gave me another mission instead. To deliver a baby girl. All I had to do was ascend the grassy slope (on the outside of this circular building -corkscrew fashion) in a clockwise direction until I reached the top. Simple. I set off but was greatly impeded by some hefty great cracks in the clay substrate; some spanning a good half foot or so. Imperial foot that is. 'Just wait til I tell J.E. about these cracks in the "lawn"' I thought.

I finally reached the top and flaked in the doorway. There to greet me was, bizarrely, my old pastor and his family and, last I heard, they were in Seattle. So there I was lying on the baked grass and what should happen to crawl out of my baby backpack but David's cat, Smudge. Oh the baby was still in there too, and no worse for the wear either.

Feeling much refreshed, I peered over the balcony
look down and see the flying machines
something is not right
spies are all around
amorphous paua shell blob that glows then tuns into a blue bowl