Horse in hand under an eggless sky, stormy rags drown in buckets within the dry spoon’s eye.

From the doghouse to the bookhouse, leads are followed to the listening booth where some light may be shed on the mysterious Flamma Simia.

Sliding or surfing, mutt or intern, riding clouds of sound; it’s appraisal time!

Mr Kit Eraser was never going to be a superman, whatever promises coated his slick tongue on the trip to watch Mr Porky talking to his pies again.

Puzzling at the brownpatch in the coachpark, the glasseyed guardian of a goosy rubric heralds a jaundiced flashflood of consciousness, before ducking out. The sackblood sings within the mosquito pup, supping at a babycino.

Masked as a rat infestation at Fitson's, a perpetual loop streams sideways, sifting through sands and punching brains, only to bear cheese-witness to Miriam's sludgy tortoise pipe-dream.

From the water on the brain to the rubble on the plate, culinary rogues wield hateful spoons with gritted teeth, lives are ruined, the sun's retired and the hills can't get over themselves. Just another day in the lab.

At an important ingress, ingesting books, people and light, the underground library forgets its overground pretensions.

Rousseau and Marengo Part 4: What goes in must then come out. What OTIS lifts it must let fall. Short-changed, enflamed and fading out, the question darks the mouths of all.

Rousseau and Marengo Part 3: The way the gravy trickles at the feast of fools cannot swamp the fact that OTIS sets the rules.