Suppose the best time to fall in love is

during the super bloom, the first step is

unfolding a topographical map to find its

tallest point. Bring cranberry orange muffins

and nobody will take you seriously. Stick to

head scratchers and pepper grinders. I arrive

just as flowers turn to face the audience like

it is a business opportunity. The question of

how to get a better view is most common, but

as I am about to get my turn to ask, the shadow

of the wingspan of a seabird gobbles me up. The

super bloom ends. Everybody does whatever

was being done before. I go back to fabricating

human names for butterflies as they float past

my austere visage. That's Cassie Ascot. That's

her closest confidant, Clive Breakmen. They

aren't dating, but the idea isn't repulsive.

They build houses on the bay for butterflies

with lots of money, intentionally removing some

wood planks so that eventually everything is on

a slight tilt. One day, Cassie and Clive invite me

to their cool secret base and I mean what the f

have I done besides stand here pretending I

am standing elsewhere not getting overwhelmed?

So I head over, but I'm late, which perturbs them

immensely, thus they present to me a choice of 3

doors, their butterfly eyes making the sound of a

thousand camera shutters going off at random. Oh,

don't fret, says Clive. He must have noticed

me whispering "What despair" and digging through

my nose without future plans. There's only prizes

behind the doors, uh, we promse, Cassie adds.

Okay. I'm convinced. Sure. I grab a knob and yank.