'Hey hey, Ness my friend!' The jiggling pile of puke says.
He tells him of the story of the fiery ball of rock now on the hill.
'Big, shooting fast.'
'Don't go near, the cops - er, police are steadying it.
Looking over, looking over,
looking to see it.
It glowed like the sun to him.

'Ness, Ness, you must turn away.'
He walks back home, bat in hand, cookie in other,
sighing, looking back at the miniature sun.