The shadows of baobabs and mimetic parrots were variously interrupted by ringlets of live indigo light.
Bouncing on tree branches in passionate spasms I shushed my overweight conscience and accepted the audibly uncorked bottle of radiant bubbly potion named “Flash and twinkle” presented to me by a seven-foot tall strawberry blond peasant covered in soot and melodramatic makeup with too much maroon in it.
The potion popped into my mouth; its chaotically rotating prickly bubbles choked my articulation completely. I fell flat on the swampy ground, looked him in the eye and mouthed “It’s good to be free.”
That frightened the green-and-blue parrot perched on the brim of my broken Flash and Twinkle...