“What now, Grass?”
“My ice cream’s starting to melt all over this trampoline. Better hop to it!”
So they hopped on a nearby bus destined for parts unk.
“I could have swore this train was a bus when we started, Grass.” Spongeberg turns. “My drink machine!”
“Ahhh. Want one Grass? They’re simply the best. Pure cane sugar refreshment.”
Puzzled Grass kept staring at the bus-train and not Coffee Mix swigging Spongeberg. “No thanks,” he managed.
“What are we staring at now, Grass? A cube?”
“A red blue yellow spinny cube thingie, yeah.”
They gaze some more.
“Is it ‘s’pose to be relaxing? It’s not relaxing. Rather: a mess, a jumble.”
“We should move on, then, Spongeberg my friend. Like the night…”
“Fine with me.” They get up and move on.
“I’m not sure this is the healthiest of places, Grass.”
“I’m not either.”
“I’m not ready to die again. Right this minute. It’s painful!”
“I know it is, Spongeberg. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I brought you back. This isn’t fair. This is not the place I would have picked either. This Our Second Lyfe.”
“Good idea to get me set up at my potential new digs. Cheer me up.”
“I’m trying. You got those freebies at the furniture place just across Route 14 in front of us. Very handy.” He peers toward the far window. “And if you look at just the right angle over there you can see the giant faun statue. Reassuring, I suppose…”
“… that some of what I remember as My Second Lyfe is still here, yeah,” Spongeberg completes the Mmmmmm’s angle.