Reb and Tiffany went back to school.
They ate chocolate chip cookies and apple slices for lunch.
The teacher made them a recipe they could not describe to their families. It was one part a calculus test and a physics examination. They had to solve x=1, y. This meant they had to use the dreamworld to discover the secret they had not been awake to solve. This answer was precisely on the co-ordinates 0=x,-1,0 on the chart the teacher had given them. This meant that King Alexander's song, which was not a riddle or a pun, had solved the problem for them! This, they agreed, was a very good thing indeed. Having completed the test, both found out they were going home to their grandparent's eatery. They would have another lonesome night out, and away from the trials and the tribulations of their youth, they would be knowingly ending up at the track and field hoi palloi. They used this as their directional input and solved for egress, because that meant they were going to the ancient delights, not the Turkish fields of famine, fate, or embellishment. They ate a cold and stale meal at the gravy barn and instead of discarding with false eyelashes they discarded with aplomb the only ones they ever knowed. They were cross-bolting, and notation after notation of rote meteorology was denounced as being not rigorously defined. Reb and Tiffany got to Reb's place after school. During the dance party that ensued well into the no-lights, she, Reb, was finally awoke by a strange noise. It was her new family member! Her parents, well aware of her budgetary constraints and her no-nonsense attitude that was intolerably delicious, was offered the chance to name the skimpily dressed little hors d'oeuvre! She was a wicked little scud missile. The dog, perchance a rover, was too young to be considered an ankle biter. Reb named the applauded miscreant Apple Rooster. Apple Rooster told Tiffany where to stuff it. He was all over her.
Tiffany was comely. She was in the thick and the thin of the waning hour of her periwinkle bloodshot eyes. Apple Rooster and Red were sleeping together when Tiffany left and Reb was awakened by her mother. She helped her get ready for school and the two traipsed to the watch tower and out of sight, out of mind. She did not mind school that much at all in that day and point of factual anti-matter prednisone pills awash with the speedometer she was reading red, white and blue all over. She read The Journey of Michael Moore and it talked about hamburgers and what nonsense that was to suede a tie, or whatever the journey part was about. She asked her mom to read it for her, and do her homework, too. Her mother agreed and she had a lot of trouble finding what not to treacle triple about or do over. She wrote the book report and asked the teacher not to mind too much by having Reb sign her name on the old paper she had prepared previously by way of insinuation. She gave the book report to the school marm and only received a much maligned but still awesome score of ninety eight on the homework she was only regionally aware of.
This meant her mother was a better writer than her so Reb had to tend to her all day long. Michael Moore or no Michael Moore, Reb and her mom had a fetid swamp of a humdinger. They took care of Reb's mother's lock's and her absconded with prattled footsies. Reb had to fix her mother's nail palooza as well as tie her seared steak pity party plum tuckered out cox-enzymed fidgeting murlscumurlmers. She wore her niceties out in a hurry, Reb considered the alternative cosminuses of the consequences of disobeying her brood mother. After that was all done, Reb and Tiffany played in the back yard and Apple Rooster and the frisbee they tossed about were all wrapped up in a pendulum olfactory. The response was pristine! They ate apple rooster alive! No, it was not that but it was turkey and green apples that they had had for dinner, all right, not Apple Rooster, no, not that she would have minded a little bite to eat sometimes, if he would just tend to her sore basketballs a bit more awe-strickenly. Apple Rooster was what they called a tadpole jus, without the au part of the rhetorical equation. He was just a little monster. One day he would grow into a bedside table lamp or an overthrown moratorium all by his lonesome, honestly, but she had not considered him to be that beauregarded. He was not a ladies worst nightmare. He ate cans of beans and other wonderful foodstuffs that smelled delicious to poor Reb, but Tiffany, he was not cirrhotic of. His liver would live a long time! He had a cumulus look on his clouds. He was certainly not misanthropic! And the tropics they wanted to away to, but not without their maker who they had not climbed to the mount of being met usurped first! Apple Rooster, Reb, Tiffany and their outwardly leaning, but not untowardly operating because that would be kind of odd when they were all driving without a license, and under the influence of being awesome, and awesomely enough, they were darting hither and to the mason jar dictatorship alley linesman, before the backers could call them back from the brink! It was still too much for the old pooch. He was sleeping off another knocker's worth of hard knocks. The brownie sundae she enjoyed was without tough nuts to crackle candy bar over, not that way inclined was the brownie sundae, who was a ramification all by its own partnerships, limited in liability or no.
She was a sore Thai food lover, she wanted her mother to know.
Reb and Tiffany went to Alexander's house one day, on this very fine occasionally dirty and damp tug-of-war between two business majors and one underslung hand grenade of a boast-hog, where they played for slim pickings. The event was occasionally moist like a briquette! It had rained some off and on and they were doing the laundry out in the open. They made steaks and potatoes on the grill at Alexander's fine reliquary and interred themselves in the direction that they had just come from, but were not returning to any time but soon, and quick enough was that that they were cutely ensconced in the bed pan of another yuppie hazmat team's purchasing agreement.
She was haranguing for another spilt milk, so she went to the fridge before the pudgy guzzards had their liens tweeted on the alpaca calamine mountainous terrain. She was then piggybacked into the dreamworld!
King Alexander was laying in his beddy by blunderbuss.
Queen Aurelia was tending to the garden hose.
Tiffany and Red saw the King of Autumn and Evil traipsing along toward certain doom!
The Anti-Mony Chancellery Bunny of Awesome was having an eating disorder!
Reb's Sword of Awesome met the King of Autumn and Evil's Sword of Evil and Darkness and King Alexander had been arrested for false teething! He was in the cages of the batting habit-wearers! They were chanting to keep him there overtime! He was trying to call a time out, but they were calling all the shots here in the batting cages of Beth Alroy! They were, ahem, quite out of knock-knock jokes towards the end of the segment. King Alexander and his beddy by fought courageously against the Dust-Mites and Bunnies That Dusted and the Vacuum-Stacker, who was a gigantic and monumentous occasion! They stuffed them into a bag and shoplifted them from the kersplat teramite! The kersplat termite told them it was a pretty good-looking beastie boy, but that coulda been what he had not been in the business for.
Reb and Tiffany left the dreamworld and Reb hid her Chronoglass back in the attic, deep in the dusty curmudgeon hoard of the usual suspects, and tended to their wounds. She licked them, lickity split! Reb and Tiffany marched out of the stockades like two witching hours ready to purloin that they had been frisked in the dipping cup of another Montessori school that was the King of Autumn and Evil's old lady! They got frisky in the pool and ended up bathing without their suits on, almost like it was suntanned on them before they moved to the cutting board from the frying pan allegory. Child support paid and negotiated with, they told King Alexander the question he needed to hear. He was pleased to make their acquaintance. Back at the outside inside, they told Mr. Sinclair that he was two toasted to drive today. He was pleased and left happily enough, almost like it was meant to happen. Reb and Tiffany told Mr. Sinclair's opposite half, who was better than his betterer half because they were not his composited half, who was over there being brow-beaten into a preamble!