Dreamed 1990/2/20 by Chris Wayan
Some warm, fuzzy little spirits are in a hurry to go round the world. So they take a short cut straight down through the Earth!
Well, they're not really that little: they're big as humans, in fact! They just looked so small, peering over the lip of the huge boat they hitch a ride on.
It's a giant's boat, of dense black stone, floating down a river of luminous lava, leaving a wake of hissing gold, livid on the red.
For while the Warm Fuzzies really are fuzzy, they're not just warm--they're hot. Quite hot. White hot!
The argument grows hotter, hotter... till it erupts!
Because... that's how volcanoes happen. Oh, you can call it convection, you can call it a hot spot. But I've seen them down there. And I call it an argument.
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