"You know, I don't think seeing a big pink submarine in the middle of Central Park is a big deal. Weirder things have happened, right? (Maybe?)"
This is what Travis was thinking to himself as he lay in bed after a sleepless night of some serious rationalizing, which, he felt , he just couldn't get the knack of. It was true; Travis had seen a giant pink submarine resting gently between the trees of the park. The problem with Travis, however, was that he was too sensible for his own good. Instead of admitting to himself that he may very well be crazy (and I think we can consider this a very real possibility at this point), he tries to find a rational explanation to this very unexpected situation. Of course, there isn't one. Reluctantly (or perhaps quite eagerly, however you choose to look at it), Travis forgot all about the pretty pink sea navigation machine and got on with his life.
The only problem with that, is he can't go to work everyday, sitting in his fancy office, in his plushy office chair, when there are slugs all over the walls. No, Travis would not allow himself to work under these conditions...not with slugs. His coworker and friend, Carter, however, was not interested in listening to Travis ramble on about imaginary slugs all day, or imaginary submarines, for that matter. He said as much.
"Travis," He said it gently, as if talking to a child. "I think you should get back to work now."
"Back to work!?" Travis spit out. Carter whipped his head around to be sure no one else was witnessing the insanity. "The slugs! I mean...slugs!" Travis, unfortunately, was not very coherent at that moment.
"Okay, okay, Why don't you go for a walk, then?" Or a doctor, maybe? Carter thought to himself sarcastically. Travis was beginning to get on his last nerve.
"A walk..." Travis considered the idea and decided, yes, a walk would be nice. It would at least get all the eyes of those slugs off his back. (His next thought was: Do slugs have eyes? Either way, he needed some air.)
Travis ventured out into the street.