Things around here get stranger and stranger… as if it wasn’t enough that he danced right off the screen and into my mouth, of all places. Like a tiny jewellery box ballerina, he made his way all round the canines and the molars, scouring the tongue with his tiny feet, a veritable Fred Astaire. If Tinkerbell paints the way to treachery, then all he really does, in his own fashion, is to polish the enamel on a truly tea stained day. And probably just say goodnight, in his humble way, while the banshees scream tremendously, beauteously, in the trees outside. I’ll not abide all of his demands, stamped arduously on the roof of my mouth. He’s like a toddler, spinning circles on the ground, wanting only what he wants. He’ll vomit a fly’s worth of detritus if I’m not careful. That’s how aggravated he is. But I’ll not see it. I’ll not permit. And if I have to swallow his gall, alongside my own, so be it. This was always just a one-way ticket anyway. And I am most certainly a lone passenger. But I will concede that sometimes it’s nice to host a guest. That’s what I thought for a while anyway. Until I sneezed.