Just before I backed into the other vehicle I was thinking, toothpaste, basil, parsnips, eggs and conditioner.  Immediately after I backed into the other vehicle I thought, lottery ticket, haemorrhoid cream and travel brochure.

My name is Pluto.  I’m a planet.  I’m also a changeling.  Whenever a dinky little satellite comes cruising along from one of the many primitive populated galaxies I change my shape to suit whatever they’ve perceived me to be.  Take the earthlings for example.  They’re really desperate to find something similar to what they call mother earth.  (See my future blog; ‘Mother earth is a finite slice of cake.’)  Fearful of change and difference, they, the earthlings, are desperate to see me as a mountains and valleys planet.  ‘Ooooh,’  they say. ‘There might be life on it.’   But I’m a smooth chromium ball changeling.  When the munkle probe came to me from the Gross- gnarly planet in the Cosmos Redshift 7 galaxy, I made myself flat like a disk, but opaque.  They loved it and sent digitized images back to Gross-gnarly and all their boffins fell about giggling and clapping, much like the earthlings did last week.  Both species reported the pictures as amazing.  That grieved me.  Pictures of a pink ball or an opaque disk indeed.  The pictures are mediocre.  It’s my magical tomfoolery that’s amazing.  They just don’t get it.   I’d like to beam something over their images that says ... JUST RELAX .... CHILL OUT .... Nothing’s what you think it is.

I got all my tests back from the doctor.
He said, “They’re all negative.”
I said, “Shit.”
“No, no, no,” he said, “They’re negative in a positive way.”
“Oh,” I said. “So what’s positive?” ...
“Ah,” he said, “That would be negative.”
I looked out the window for a while. He twiddled with a pencil.
“Got anything for a headache?” I asked.
“How long’s the headache been going on for?” 
“About 30 seconds,” I said.