Wakeman's tongue bristled like so many toothbrushes in the breeze. "Tuesday," he said, relishing the taste of the word in his mouth, "was yesterday." This was it, the moment of reckoning. Wakeman's face took the form of boiled cabbage - delicate, wrinkly, and cabbageous.

But Spaz had other plans. "It IS yesterday," he shouted, "TOMORROW!" Everyone paused and looked at one another. Somewhere, a chipmunk was drinking. A pigeon was soiling a little boy's head. Greek women at a fair were smashing grapes in a large wooden crate with their feet.

Milk was curdling.

Wakeman's head exploded into a thousand pieces of lettuce; a lettuce fit for tacos.