Pied Piper awoke and stared up at the man shaped skylight that wasn't there yesterday.
The fenestrator lay in a mangled lump at the foot of the bead leaking life juice onto the Palm matting.
The air felt stale like it had already been breathed and he stepped outside contemplating the rococo intricacies of cause and effect.
The sun being well over the yard-arm he fetched up a bottle of Duvel from the water but, opened it with his teeth and went to lie in the hammock under the shade of the mangrove trees, not a little disschuffed at the mess he'd have to clean up later.