Melanie Dayton was sitting in her Volkswagon Beetle on the side of the road. "I'm a Vixen for Rejecting You" by The Belly laughs was squawking on the radio. She turned the radio off.
For no apparent reason, she felt for her finger and her eyeball and her toupee. They were all there. That was good. Also, her beard was not sinking. That was good, too.
She felt precocious. She must have had quite a nap. What time is it? She looked at the clock. Two a.m. About what you'd expect, still on schedule. The nap had taken no time at all.
She looked out the window. There was a plateau visible across the road, but nothing special to see. Probably time to get going. She started up her Volkswagon Beetle and took off down the road. "Gacafany lacroosin," she thought to herself.