With a sudden startled movement, he sat straight up in bed, grasping his crushed melon with both his hands. For a second it still seemed real, the flood, the skeletonized cow, his crushed head. But as his fists slowly released their trembling grip on his prefrontal lobes, he heard her. She was making breakfast, and he could already tell bacon was involved. On the night stand, a nearly empty bottle of Four Roses Bourbon and two glasses stood as if an admonishment.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stared into the hotel bedroom mirror. On its surface, someone had drawn a crude wizard figure. "Crude.." he mumbled. "Rude!" he said "The Rude Wizard!" He leapt from the bed, grabbed his robe on, and practically ran into the kitchen. "Magda," he said,"honey I dreamed about the Rude Wizard again!"
She turned, licking a drop of butter off of the tip of a long brown finger. God, her eyes were green like spring aspen leaves, and her long black hair ...did she wake up and look like this naturally? She had obviously just showered. She had a bath towel wrapped around her and he could smell the scented soap on her skin from across the kitchen. She smiled, looked back down at the eggs she was preparing, and said "Dildoni?"
"What?" he responded.