Elmer Dayton was sitting in his little red wagon on the side of the road. "You're a Gossip for Spanking Me" by The Furrowed brows was squawking on the radio. He turned the radio off.
For no apparent reason, he felt for his eyelash and his Achilles tendon and his pituitary gland. They were all there. That was good. Also, his antenna was not cooling down. That was good, too.
He felt colorless. He must have had quite a nap. What time is it? He looked at the clock. Three p.m. About what you'd expect, still on schedule. The nap had taken no time at all.
He looked out the window. There was a backyard visible across the road, but nothing special to see. Probably time to get going. He started up his little red wagon and took off down the road. "Dyboofojo kywhovin," he thought to himself.