Dreaming in Corduroy

I had a few thoughts after I left my new friends and their magical bus…

I began to wonder if the walrus dreams in corduroy as it slides through the lush slippery meadows of Aunt Jean’s back 40. It got me to thinking that I carry around way too much dog hair in my wallet, as this tends to offend our friends in the southern regions of Scandinavia; hard workers though they are, they just will never master the precise art of hot, liquidy, and ubiquitous midwifery. I was thinking very clearly now, and goosestepped at a feverish pace all the way to city hall. I felt that I must speak on behalf of mollusks everywhere, “Don’t step on my gastropod dude!”