At this moment he felt like his mind was a rocket skipping off the surface of a foreign planet. Preforming a proverbial slingshot if you will, attempting a skirmish but realizing there was no possibility of entry so the only credible idea was a flight back home.
He sat in repose and listened as the surroundings engulfed, him damping the night, and putting weight in his chest. A cold air clouded the corner and clasped onto his corduroy jacket. Continuing to mold, he held up a sign indicating the need for water. But, unfortunately to no avail. That was the end for him, his body crushed under the pain of this existence, it took all his strength to lift himself from the grass and direct himself towards Earth.
The house was laid with enameled ornaments, mostly of an epicurean taste. Lavishly gaudy, as soon as you entered through the vestibule you were met by an ornery lady. She was the bawd, and she kept her ornery tone throughout the entire conversation. She led you with her words, and her stubbornness was proving this. Her appearance was particularly short with a varicose right arm and a patch over one eye, making her mysteriously intimidating. When she spoke spit would fly from her mouth and her stomach would pound in and out, as if a drill was hitting a pound of blubber. Her one eye was accompanied by a downward turned eyelash, revealing her utter contempt for her current situation. It didn’t take long for one to desire a removal from the presence of this mercurial woman. But she did her job, and soon enough Sam was walking by the enameled objects and into another gaudy display of decadence. But this time met by a woman much more attractive than the house madam. A young somnambulist calf with angel like skin and a coy disposition. Sam’s eyes fluttered as he took a deep breath and made his way forward.