I give you a hamburger. A plane overhead drops a large pulsating clown. You smile in amusement as the clown launches a full-scale war on bathroom robes. The hem of my apron kills your father who lived in a vat of green tea. You hug me and fall into a well of snakes and green goats. Steve Vai plays a flat E on the strings of time. You light a cigar made of sea urchins and are lost in a sea of psychedelic smells. George Bush shakes hands with you and melts into a puddle of screaming dreams. You shatter a dying frog and eat some ice cream. A clown offers you a beach ball. You throw the ball at a passing airplane. I give you a hamburger.