They don’t have their canoe and this causes a kind of panic. They have no idea where it went. It’s the monster, Jim says. They feel a chill.

The moths flew out of the closet like a black scream and he saw that his clothes were ruined. His girlfriend felt an intense love just then.

He clears the bar by dispensing a vast array of apocalyptic heebie-jeebies. My balls are feeling small today, he says, ordering a lite beer.

Sanity had been absent from the symposium. Thus, beyond the after hours carousing and the petty jealousies, public farting surprised no one.