I’m clinging on for dear life, 50 feet above the ground, on a bar and a rope that looks like it could snap at any moment. I wait desperately for someone to save me. On the ground, people are watching me, pointing up, gasping…laughing.
My arms are on fire and my vision starts to swim, but I don’t want to die, so I cling on. I don’t scream out for help, because I know nobody will come, so I cling on.
Out of nothing, a man in a rowboat – balding, with a potbelly – materializes in the air nearby. He drags his oars lazily through thin air, pushing his funny little boat towards me. It jolts me with a bump.
The little rowboat rests in midair next to me, gently rocking side to side on an axis of nothing. I can feel eyes below me observing in interest. The man whips out a cigarette, lights it, and stares at me; one eye blue, the other yellow.
He deliberately blows smoke in my purple face, and along with it puffs out, “I can help, ya know.”
“Well shure, missy. Alls ya got to do is…take off all yer clothes.”