I think I was first aware of my absence of awareness when I first became aware of the disturbing odor of roasting telephones in my head. Or it could have possibly been related to the screaming voice in my head that kept telling me, "I like drinking fountain drinks out of a Styrofoam cup." And I kept wondering, does that mean you like to drink water from a drinking fountain in a Styrofoam cup, or does it mean you like drinking fountain drinks, as in from a soda fountain, in a Styrofoam cup? And I became so utterly confused and dismayed that I failed to notice that my facial hair had melted off my face and had begun to assume the shape of a rhino on the floor. I tried the best I could to muster any ounce of sanity and composure that I may have retained and I swung my magic shovel at the rhino with such swift force that when I missed it and made contact with my beloved Chia Pet, it shattered into a million billion pieces and then came back together in the shape of another rhino, which was now charging at me. While all this was going on, I had misplaced my keys, and along with my house key and car key, I had lost the key to the big box which holds the little box which holds the even smaller box which holds the key to the liquor cabinet where I keep nothing but Band-Aids. And it was at this very moment that I realized that the fountain drinks and rhinos were completely irrelevant to my life and what I really needed most was a Band-Aid, a good Band-Aid, a darn good Band-Aid, to comfort my sorrows and to cover the paper cut which I had received while turning the pages to the book within my head which contained the fountain drinks, the roasting telephones, the rhinos, and my keys. And since the keys were in my head, I couldn't figure out how open the big box which holds the little box which holds the even smaller box which held the key to the liquor cabinet which held my box of Band-Aids. And since there was absolutely no possible way to heal the paper cut in my head, I turned my mind off and thought about the high cost of living.

(foster childe)