Steve Knotts was sitting in his Hyundai Elantra on the side of the road. "You're a boomerang for Killing Me" by The Hugs was squawking on the radio. He turned the radio off.
For no apparent reason, he felt for his gall bladder and his palm and his fingernail. They were all there. That was good. Also, his skin was not going nuts. That was good, too.
He felt furry. He must have had quite a nap. What time is it? He looked at the clock. Four 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 meadow visible across the road, but nothing special to see. Probably time to get going. He started up his Hyundai Elantra and took off down the road. "Kyjoosyti noquoozoog," he thought to himself.