“Let’s say I want some of this, ice cream. How do I go about getting it?” he asks, knowing full well they can’t hear him, not because they are so absorbed in their reading but because he doesn’t even exist to them. Yes, Devils walk and sit among us unbeknownst. And of course it’s a joke, because the dessert would never reach his mouth without liquifying and possibly even vaporizing. “Solid, Gas, (he makes up their names) can you hear me?” He places a red hand through the paper Gas is reading and waves directly in his face. “Can you see me?” Devil Dave’s Gas, who is actually Gus, only feels a warmish breeze on his nose after reading the phrase “fossil fire” in an article about California.
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“How do I go about getting more sprinkles for my ice cream?” he asks Plasma and Aether at the menu board, to, of course, no replies.
Sunklands 