It was late . . . or early, depending on your perspective. It was about 4:20 AM to be exact.  To me, it’s not the next day until the Sun also rises.  . . So, it was still tonight; which made it late and not early to me.  . . and not yet tomorrow, either. I had a few bowls of Mother Nature’s cereal and I was feeling “extra creative’’. I decided to write a story.  As you read on, keep in mind that I don’t usually write fiction. I prefer to write about true stories and things; albeit random.  When you read this story, I’d like you to close your eyes and make it real to you. If you think it, can it be real? I don’t know. Again, I guess that’s up to the individual. . . A bowl of cereal might help you too. It has to be the ‘Mother Nature’ brand, though. It’s chocked full of vitamins and minerals that give you that extra special kick when you need it. . . .

A high-heeled mushroom, eating paisley pudding from a rusted Tupperware bowl, drifted by a tree wearing lipstick. On the road ahead, a spider caught a cloud in it’s web and it started to rain. The drops came down to soak the sponges lying in the grass. They started laughing as the raindrops tickled their innards. The laughter grew, but faded to silence as the water dried and drained away. The flowers were dancing and singing in the mist and the rain. A bearded yellow sun appeared and dried the Earth. The dancing flowers melted away. They were made of chocolate.

Nightfall came fast. The high-heeled mushroom headed through the gathering fog toward a dark spiral staircase, but instead, she turned and went toward an elevator. She was going down. She pushed the basement level button. I could see that she had a recent manicure. Her nails looked pretty. I thought she might be headed home. I knew from my past that the basement was cold, dark and dank. As the elevator doors opened, the high-heeled mushroom stepped back as an avalanche of silver thumbtacks poured out. Waist high in thumbtacks, the high-heeled mushroom took one tack for each shoe and put them on the tips of her heels. She walked back toward the spiral staircase. I think it reached to the infinite heavens above. I couldn’t say for sure. I’d never been that “high” before. She flipped a switch at the bottom and it revealed a wonderful illuminated staircase; each stair outlined in spectacular colors of neon. It was a neon staircase. It made a brilliant light show through the fog with a rainbow of neon light that lit up the sky.

As I put on my shades, I could hear a jukebox playing music from an old, boarded up, corner drugstore. It was David Bowie’s ‘Space Oddity’. I watched as the high-heeled mushroom opened a tiny compact to check her make-up. It was perfect. She switched the light off the staircase, turned on her heel and headed toward the music coming from the drugstore jukebox. As she headed toward the drugstore, she realized she had left her paisley pudding on the staircase. She could see the rusted Tupperware bowl in the green glow of Mr. Moonlight peeking through the fog. When she got back to the staircase, she flipped the switch and it lit up once again. She sat down on the step, took off her heels and finished her paisley pudding. I watched as she shut off the neon lights. It was dark now and the only light to illuminate the staircase came from a chalky green Mr. Moonlight. As the fog lifted, I could see that Mr. Moonlight was smiling. I think he had just eaten because he looked very full.  As I turned around, the high-heeled mushroom had left the stairs and disappeared into a now empty, waiting elevator car. As the Sun came up, I wondered if she was real. . . or had I just imagined all of this? Just maybe it was a metaphor of sorts. Perhaps I’ll never know.

 – Random Prophet, Hashtag #98. February 2018. ….Until next month, keep the rubber side down and stay groovy. Peace. Thoughts? Strange or otherwise- Email me at groovyhighway@gmail.com