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You lie still and hope the pain will go away. It doesn't. And you are having a hard time determining the constellation formed by the myriad of stars revolving above your head. Orion? The Kneeler? The Wain? The Bear? The stars cease to spin and yet the dark sky above remains unfamiliar. You gently remove your aching head from the less than sufficient pillow of the rock (matching the indentation fast becoming a knot on your cranium). "Thank you," says the rock. |
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"You're welcome," you say (and think, Am I talking to a rock?) You're outta here! Your bruised cerebrum succumbs to the unfathomable (i.e. you faint). |
