cognition

Toastie nibbled on poptarts while he basked on his front lawn. It wasn't really much of a lawn, maybe 30 square feet of tall, sharp, dry grass that left a nice little rash on your forearms and ankles if you stayed in it to long. However, the sun was warm so Toastie was outside. Next door the seven fingered el-fish with horned-rimmed glasses was marching up and down his stairs; up down up down, keep eyes on the ground. Toastie could not see said neighbor, but the rythmicly sighing stairs left a faint taste in Toastie's ear somewhere. He may have even paused to wonder about it.

He finished his poptart, he stood up, and he went back inside.