Joe fell off the couch, througn the oak flooring - noticing, on the way, that the carpet needed a good hoovering - through several layers of rock, which he could not identify as he had never been the slightest bit interested in geology, and into a strange place.
''Uh-oh.'' he said. ''Parallel Universe? Other world? Fantasy kingdom?'' He looked for Davy. Reluctantly, he looked for Beary, too. Of bear and boy, sign was there none.
''Strange syntax.'' he said. ''You're a pretentious little prat, aren't you?
Slowly turned he upon his lithe heel and straightway glid forwards t'ward the greeniosity.
''Do leave it out, matey! It's not impressing me one iota. And I don't use the word iota so don't you dare stick that one in my gob again.'' He uttered, utterly guttedly.
''Oh, you think you're so bloody clever, don't you, you... you... cock! Where's my mate? Where's Davy?''
He pitty-patted around the path, betwixt, between; twisting and tweaking and twirking and twomping and twu-
''I'll twirk you in a minute, you wally!'' Joe daintily clenched his power-fist in a power-fest of powerful flibbishness. Joe sighed.
Overhead flew a seagull. Catching sight of Joe, it swooped down and landed next to him. Joe was not at all surprised when it began speaking in rhyme. The bird told him that its name was Soar, but that it was really a minor royal in disguise. It had a proposition for Joe..
''If you want to join me, just hop on my back.
To have an adventure and join in the 'craic'
You wanted a story - well, this one is keen -
With hobos and kids and a coffee machine.''
Joe walked around the large seagull, which was huge, but not nearly humongous enough for back-hopping. Maybe it would involve shrinkification. Who knew? Who cared?
''I care.'' said Joe, carrying on his seagull inspection. ''That's you, really, isn't it? Davy?''
''My name isn't Davy, or Beary, or Clyde.
But that doesn't matter. You need to decide.''
said the seagull, impatiently. Joe scratched his head. Then he made his decision.