It seemed no matter where she looked, nothing looked the way it was supposed to. Nothing looked how she was used to seeing it. Even the sky was different. It glittered green, it was even paler than the usual sky blue. The clouds were pink. On really stormy days the sky looked like a watermelon, cut open. She thought it was beautiful. Some days she spent hours lying on her back in the bluegrass watching the sky morph and change. When she did go on walks, there was always something new and more intriguing lurking around the corner. One bright Tuesday morning she rounded a turn in the path to discover a walking, talking palm tree. Its leaves were a brilliant blood red and they shimmered in the early sun. The palm tree smiled at the girl. The girl waved, still half in awe of the brilliance of those leaves, spanned out so far above her head. She put her car in third gear and gunned past the palm tree, leaving it and its smile in her dust. At the bottom of a steep downhill slope, the girl—we shall now name her Elle—came upon a most glorious sight. There was a pool with the shadow of a rainbow coloring its surface. Frolicking in the water and running on the grass around it, were a dozen or so fluffy white puppies. Lurking back, in the shadows, were a few tiny kittens, barely able to lift their own heads; not quite ready to survey the scene. Elle approached the enclosure where the puppies and kitties reluctantly roamed. Standing near the entrance was a large bird. Elle would later identify it as an ostrich: an ostrich that bore a striking resemblance to Big Bird from her youth. She spoke with the ostrich, keeping her mouth in a big, round O as she spOke each wOrd. The ostrich informed her what the enclosure was. It was a farm. A breeding ground where only the most loving, friendly, compassionate puppies and kitties were produced. It was a euphoric place for breeders of ideal puppies and kitties. They were frequently paying the ostrich their two pence to spend an hour in the enclosure, admiring the young new animals. The ostrich offered Elle a discount of only one pence. She searched her pockets but could not find even half a pence. She explained this to the ostrich but he showed her no mercy. He rudely directed her up the hill to a second-rate kennel where crazy and vicious animals were accidently bred, only because the man in charge was a sparrow. He had no authority over the dogs, whatsoever. Elle decided not to go that way. She did not want to go somewhere she could accidentally be wounded. She sadly walked past the utopian dog kennel and hopped into her buggy that she had been cruising about in all this time. She put the car in gear and rolled down the hill and away from the many dogs. She dipped low until she was heading quickly down a beach towards some deep, purple water. Rather than step on the breaks, she pressed the gas and plunged into the sea. She kept going down until the pressure on the little car became a concern. But lower she went and the buggy held strong. She saw little cities from the future, in bright colors. She saw the statue of a woman holding a torch. She saw a tower, like a needle pointing straight towards the sky. There was a Golden bridge and a wall that stretched across the whole space. It was so beautiful down there on the bottom of the sea. There were tiny little fish that glowed in the water. They would look like stars to the tiny organisms living down among the sandy sidewalks. She was swimming among the stars, Elle thought. She tried looking around for more new discoveries, but the light was becoming dim. She turned on the headlights to her little vehicle, and they lit up only a small radius. She was not satisfied with the outcome, and she was going deeper still. As the pressure increased, Elle began to fear. Her stomach tied into a knot. Just then, the buggy crashed through the ceiling of a great big cave. The buggy fell like a pebble from top to bottom, and when it clattered down, the girl popped out. She looked up at the interior of the cave, and could scarcely believe her eyes. She looked up into a glorious atmosphere. It was like staring into the pictures from the Hubble Space Shuttle. It was bright and colorful and infinite. She stared at the ceiling until her head felt like a cloud that might float away and dissipate. She didn’t want that to happen, though. She closed her eyes tightly and looked down at the ground. Her head became a solid again, and she began following the path on foot. She saw giant one-dimensional Salvador Dali paintings, done in neon paints, glowing from black lights. She was having a psychedelic trip, feeling free and easy and afeared of nothing. She strolled along the neon-lit path. She reached a comfortable wooden door, knob on the right. She turned the knob and the door allowed her through. She walked down a great corridor, then down the steps to an endless ballroom. All the beautiful people she had ever seen in life or read about in magazines were twirling around the dance floor. The most handsome men were dancing with the B-list beauties. The Cougars were discussing facelifts and the DJ was a giant Swordfish, wearing a Tuxedo t-shirt. He was spinning 80s music and the bass was thumping. Elle had never seen or heard such a sound. She couldn’t help tapping her feet to the beat, just itching to join the beautiful people on the dance floor. She had just descended the stairs when the mood of the music turned sensual. Fields of Gold washed through Elle’s ears. She was very familiar with this song, she thought. She had lived her life to the tune of this song. Always mellow and unique. Always far eastern, never becoming the West Valley type. She was true to herself and all those she loved. She became a woman to that song that was now filling the ballroom. She searched the crowd of glamorous celebrities for the perfect partner with whom to dance. She glanced through the eyes of all her favorites: Russell Crowe, Robert Downey Jr, Colin Ferrell, Bruce Willis. Her eyes danced across Zac Efron’s and Bradley Cooper’s. Then they lighted on a pair of deep brown eyes, held in a tight manner, unsure of this beautiful woman he now had in his sights. She panned out from those perfect eyes and discovered the perfect nose and lips and jaw and hair that was Hugh Jackman. He was heroic even in person. When he saw the way her lip trembled, he eased his expression and his stance. He bid a quiet hello to the girl who was standing in the center of the ballroom. Elle could barely walk as she moved towards the prince before her. She extended her hands and the man took them both. He pressed his lips to the delicate skin between her knuckles, and the sky exploded with color. Elle could scarcely breathe, she was so entranced with the man. He was in every way flawless. From head to broad toe, he was the epitome of everything attractive and right and just in the world. He was the utopian man. Elle’s mind flashed to the perfect kennel where all the brilliant puppies and kitties were kept. But as her hands touched his forearms, any thought of overgrown pests went from her mind. She now had in her hands the girth and heat and passion of a real, human man. Her heart was hammering to beat the band. Her cheeks were flushed a red apple hue. She looked beautiful in all her embarrassment. The man leaned in to place a curious kiss on her lips. They kissed, passionately as can be expected. Then the camera panned out and away from the girl and her new mate. It showed the pond. The one with the rainbow surface. There were singing, dancing dolphins, twirling on the surface of the water like fountains. They were beautiful and shimmery as they sung and spun, looking like glory herself. Out came a lobster playing the electric guitar, making it scream and cry. It was a magnificent jam session with the crab playing the baby grand. Those dolphins kept singing and swaying until they began spinning and everyone got a bit of a headache as they twirled out of sight. The sun set. The stars and the moon rose bright in that deep green sky. It was like a green felt pool table with the contrast turned up. It was so green, nearly black. The stars looked pink, like little dots of watermelon in a vast shell.
As Elle looks up at that vast of sky, she notices the trees swaying at the outskirts of her vision. She is in a field, so it’s her field of vision. It’s a forest of those beautiful red palm trees. They’re like Midnight in Moscow red-black in this hollow night, when the stars look so distant. Elle walks to them and places her ear against the slow-moving trunk of the nearest giant palm tree. She hears beautiful music, the swells and dips of her favorite ballads and dirges. She hears Nick Cave and Mika and Norah Jones all serenading her, slowly and sweetly, with pain in their collective heart. Just as a tear wells up in her eye, Elle hears something rustle through the trees. She squints her eyes and discovers it’s a life-size My Little Pony. It’s a very pale yellow with a shooting star painted on its hindquarters. Elle can’t resist letting a smile spread over her face as she admires the pony’s shimmering white mane. She reaches out her hand, as if asking the pony if she may touch. The pony nods, and then giggles. “You know, I can speak,” the smooth, plastacine animal coos. Elle laughs as well and begins to carry on a conversation with the Little Pony
