Optional Salad

It was the human calculus' open dinner. A moon kept slivering whites off magnesium clouds and whispering them alive into thick lightning. Mold stepped forward through the interface and bore his gums. "Very fine, the batteries are all plated with spaghetti sauce," said calculus's minor pig. In the doorway, Chopin evaporated and joined the exotic liqueurs in a small blue pipette. "He's too cloudy," thought the floating spine, but so was the perfect atmosphere. The mimes sat and did nothing in front of reruns of Optional Salad, an old cartoon about dandelions going extinct. The floating spine sucked his teeth and asked where everyone had gotten the punch. "From Eeyore," indicated the mimes in unison, all pretending to care about anything in a strong wind. Eeyore groaned in the kitchen about his dying mother. The calculus shoveled himself a glass and politely ushered Eeyore into a hollow log. The napkins knew nothing that night. The mold spiked everyone's lights with glue. The colossal squid tartare went completely untouched. After the guests moved on, Eeyore had to be forcefully exhumed from the log.