Monday started rather well, with all the usual work from the week-end easily wiped off. Tuesday was as usual, with no real surprises, calm. Wednesday a bit more surprising with a few last-minute appointments to clear. Thursday was hopeful as the week-end got near. Friday is here to tell us all the week has been rude and the next might be too.

The smiling faces of tourists are what makes the travel agent purr with content. All they need is a bit of a dream come true, all they want is a bit of a fantasy made of playa and islands.

Getting old is an everyday job. Today Joe is going twenty five. It is the golden age for an active businessman like him. His carreer is wide open to him and his expectation can be high. It's twentyfive and all the chives.

The little white rabbit was confident he could get along with the old Joe bear. He thougt he could go on farting his little carrot farts, the odorless ones, without bothering him. But, wrong he was, oh so wrong, he heard him and a bear with ears is a bear that hears.

Dreaming that she might be coming tonight, he does have a few hopes. He already had tried a few times to get to know her better, but the occasion has never been comfortable enough. Today he felt more confident. This is Jake walking, he is happy end hopes well.

Slugs have a strict code of conduct. According to their individual talent and caracter, they will expect to have a job position where they can express themeselves best. The terrible extra midget slug could readily expect to sell soft ice at the local luba park.

The desert is dry, is hot. The sand followed the wind. A few birds of prey where cruising around in the search of some carcass. Everything was as usual, except for the cactus. The cactus was not where it should. Someone had to do something.

Like when in an earthquake, the earth was vibrating. The windows didn't break but the distorted views through the glass gave some weird appearance to the usually calm neighbourhood. Outside, it was chaos. Rumble in the basement, stay home.

Slow, brown, with two telescopic eyes, making bubbles along its path, going forth like a snake but without all of its glory, this is not a snail even if it looks like.

The whistling of the turbo was constant, the rumor coming from the exhaust pipe added the rest. What a sensation you did get with this fantastic convertible. The roar of the eight cylinders, back and forth, sliding and thumping like precisely. Eightyfive kilometers an hour where nothing, what was left was plentyful.