Kathy and Klaire teetered over the river, staring down into its muddy waters, attempting to avoid the dull violence of the boys' game going on behind them. Of a sudden, Klaire grasped Kathy's arm. "What's that - down there!" she shouted. Kathy followed Klaire's finger, and saw a small green dot, swiftly expanding. As it grew larger, the women were able to make out a huge green bubble, surmounted by a pair of globulous eyes. The eyes blinked, and beneath them opened up a huge maw. A resounding croak echoed from it. "Come on, ladies. Jump. Jump onto the safety of my pneumatic throat! Come on. Come to froggy!"
The women looked at each other, glanced back at 68's enraged encounter with his nemesis, and decided there was no choice. Hand in hand they leaped down towards the thin green membrane. As they fell through the air, they heard a high-pitched, greasy, cackle.
"Oh, yes, that's it my lovelies! Come to froggy! Come to froggy!"
The beast's eyes closed in ecstasy as Kathy's body tumbled onto him.
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The frog's throat yielded to the impact of Kathy's body, and she felt herself sinking into the stretching skin. Klaire's form, caught in a hungry gust slicing down from the battle overhead, deviated just enough from its original trajectory to leave her suspended from Kathy's clutching hand. She gripped tighter as she looked down at the river; what would those brown-grey odourous waters do to her Yves Blessure shoes - 400$ a pop - or her Jean-Claude Sparadrap dress, new this week, a priceless gift from her most ardent admirer. Through these weighty ponderings, Kathy's voice cut like a well-sharpened cake trowel; "Let go, you graceless warthog, or you'll just carry me down with you!"
At the word 'warthog', Klaire instantaneously realised that she could not locate her purse. Frantically she pulled her hand from Kathy's to reach to her left shoulder. "Damn!" she thought, as she began to hurtle once more towards the river. "What will Neil have to say about this?"
Just as the heels of the 400$ shoes were about to spike the water, a huge, multicoloured serpentine head rose from beneath them. The snake towered above the women for an instant during which time came to an end, to restart again as the open mouth plunged down towards the frog and the two women. Gently, with a soft caress, they were drawn in by the wide lips, and then, with a tender undulation, swallowed down into the endless interior.
(Vaguely appropriate video)
The map is not the territory. The map covers the territory. Seek the archangel, stuffed into a rock. You really believe it?
Follow the Zodiac as it makes North up the water and into the Gulf. A little gun-running: exchange Death for Death, the poppy powder making its way through Iran to be cashed in for Kalashnikovs. Across the territory towards the Caspian. Dig down the page and find Paradise. What a map can do.
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