It was when I came down from the valley of snipes and witnessed the unconquering of this unstructured world some call Arcadia, some call Chaos, and yet the brainwashed of all call hell that I was captured by a cult of lizard-like peeps that feast upon the ratified, and by cult I mean culture which they both mean the same in this portion of existence, and by ratified I mean not the structured political term but a human with rodent like features, not so hideous, but so so adorable with our domestic like sweetness, of course there's the counter street rat side of our race as well, and I tend to fall somewhere in between, so the lizard cult tells me my name is Angina, and I say "no, my name is Tika", and we agree it's both, not as in either or, but just both, which no words in any language can truly describe.

After several days of unrelinquished capture, and control through submission, I manage to escape their grasp, and find myself in some awkard withering forest notorious for a halucinogenic pollin that falls from the trees when someone on earth loses their last drop of sanity. After several more days of running through the forest escaping zombies that vaguely resemble Jim Morrison, and pink elephants with fangs, I finally reach my destination, now what that destination is I am not exactly sure, but I'm pretty sure it is the reason I came down from the valley of snipes and had to escape the lizard peeps in the first place, and to spare redundancy, here I am.

Exhilterated with delight at finally reaching my unknown destination, confetti suddenly falls from a lost wormhole that was supposed to have opened on earth and sucked all we know as sense and logic into oblivion, unfortanately for the poor lost wormhole, there's no sense or logic in Arcadia to begin with, otherwise Arcadia might be earth, and we fear that with every last drop of existence. The pink elephants with fangs sit around on logs clapping their stumpy-like hands and singing some overplayed song through kazoo's, you know, the one your 12 year old sibling used to play over and over for days on end while you sat in the room next store desperately trying to find ways to make it stop even when it was turned off.

Finally after a couple hours of joy I begin to get frustrated at not knowing what my destination is, and suffering from an extreme migrain as the pink elephants with fangs have yet to cease their celebratory activities, the wormhole kindly drops me two aspirin, I say "Thanks!", the wormhole replies "Any Time", and with that kind notion the pink elephants with fangs vanish back into the void of my imagination from whence they came, along with the poor lost wormhole. Well, just like any time I am completely confused and strung out with no place to go, I lie down for a nap on a plant that strangely resembles a bed.

I awake again feeling heavily sedated, it's mighty dark even for night, the moon shines vaguely through teeth-like silhoettes. I suddenly realize I am imprisoned within an oversized venus fly trap, who knew these things were real?!

"The world really is out to get me" Is that statement true or all due to inconsequential consequence?.....

So anyways, luckilly the oversized venus flytrap is ticklish, and I make a mighty leap amongst it's laughter into unlikely freedom, it turns out the lizard peeps have been scouting for me, and I jumped out just as 2 of them were within eyesight of me on their 5 mile post, I boast out giggly and insanely, "And they say the Irish are lucky", well to my relief they decide instead of eating me, to make me their goddess and idolize me, and now feast upon zombie-like creatures that vaguely resemble Jim Morrison. I guess they spent too much time in the forest too. Flattered at my uprise of a cult revolution, I kindly explain to them my unknown destination, and continue on my way with 9 cohorts of Lizard Peeps, spiffy.

Sensibly because I am continueing on my way there must be a change in destination of which I am still quite unsure of. Some might call this wandering aimlessly, and others say not all who wander are lost, and in arcadia, aimlessly is not a word, which puts a bright shiny perspective on things, I think.

The undrawn path moves forward and we wander long until I feel a bit of a cold coming on, luckilly sick old Sam had some cough syrup in harvest, it's fine to know that where you plant, more shall grow, it doesn't matter what it is, it gives root to more, yes, there's even anvil trees, not a good place to go for shade, and graveyards have corpse stocks, quite a disturbing site. So, somehow I foolishly mistook half pints for teaspoons, and next thing I knew Arcadia was doubling over itself and spewing me into a new level, where a prophit resembling a turnup tells me I must find the rat by the name of Dea pronounced Deeuh, some call him D.E.A. for short, and yet others just call him snitch, to find him I must follow the blue caravans found in the Sea Town. Atlantis perhaps or more than sure perhaps not, it's a broad way to go, then red and white might bring light upon all my questions of which I am of course unsure of. With this I bid thanks, and farewell, and fade back with a line to remember from a talking turnup "eat at Dick's".

When I came too, the lizard peeps had gone, apparently the hippy pollen wore off, and I continued on my merry little lonesom way wishing for some cheese and black wine to quench rig or mortis, rig please, walking is overrated. Finally with Sea Town before me, and no ratified folk to be found but now rats of another sort, I catch site a blue caravan, and follow being led through patterns so obsurd yet so structured, like something you might find in Nazi Germany, this place wreaks of bacon, yet I do what the turnup foretold, and finally I find snitch all dressed up in red and white from head to toe, I kindly ask where did the blue go, he blindly replies, "I don't know", and I depart just as boggled as where I began.