The amethyst rock is still there. Two baggy old kayak women rock-walked to Cedar Point in bare feet using a few long-dormant muscles. Two gorgeous three-inch froogs live in the Doelle pond, neither of them with any blasted bit o’ purple about the edges. Fer kee-reist. And the bottle of laundry detergent has been removed from the bit of jungle around the pond so sorry boys but no more partying. There are four (and maybe more) lady slippers in front of Dennis’s. The persistent fog has finally dissapated. Or so we thought, although Valdemort just said it was coming back in again. I haven’t looked. We celebrated it all with gin and tonics. G’night y’all. Seeya in the next episode.

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