The morning sun sparkled through the trees onto the placid waters, with only a distant mechanical hum and a wafting unsettling aroma giving a suggestion of the activity taking place below the shining surface.

Susan, the cattail monster, sang a low tone to her bored, smoking husband in the pond.

Catrina Cattail chortled and sang smugly as Steve floated by, roots trailing, finally unmoored by his daily massive spliff habit.

By the banks of Boob Mountain Lake, those cattails did sing and smoke grass til they flew away.

Around the pond, at the foot of the Great Purple Boob Mountains, the cattails sang the song of their people... except for a few of them who just smoked blunts and enjoyed the groove.

the california raisins were on a dream vacation in the Purled Lagoon, near the purple Mountains of Mammary, but a few of them couldn’t resist setting up an impromptu beachside concert, while others just enjoyed sitting in their cabana chairs and eating cotton candy.