Vilmer Higgenbottom was sitting in his Land Rover on the side of the road. "I'm a Flake for Aweing You" by The Yawns was squawking on the radio. He turned the radio off.
For no apparent reason, he felt for his bicep and his paw and his ear. They were all there. That was good. Also, his waist was not coming undone. That was good, too.
He felt hysterical. He must have had quite a nap. What time is it? He looked at the clock. Five 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 an outback visible across the road, but nothing special to see. Probably time to get going. He started up his Land Rover and took off down the road. "Jidageco gofravyn," he thought to himself.