dr corkondill sitting on his pontoon working looked very hungry and in need of his lunch. so miss felt in her bag for her apple, took a big bite for her own hole then sent it flying. a big teardrop of juice and spit, filled with the hormones of longing, dropped down into the pits and sent the croak&dills crazy, a frenzy that churned up the milky swamp. in all the shivering of the boards that came next she misstepped, just as a croak snapped up and onto her leg, like a clothes peg.

save me dr cloaca! and he did. he caught the apple in one hand and placed it carefully at his desk, then ran across the boards to pull her away from the cockindill lips. her leg was stripped of its flesh but he was so quick moving that he saved the bone, and she was happy to go for all the years with the skeleton leg clattering toe-tapping teeth-chattering songs for a dance. She thought sometimes that she'd like to have the teeth removed, but dr clock liked to run his hands lightly round the leg and set them going - why turn back? he'd say. there's nothing like this back there.

and what about the apple? the apple they liked so much that they simply couldn't eat it. It shrivelled itself up and squeezed out its own juices, and the juices oiled the desk on the old pontoon, and they oiled up the bones in miss felt's leg, and they slipped on occasion into the jaws of a sickly young crock, who'd come alive and chase them round the good old days for fun.

and the flesh of the apple went hard and soft as leather, and this they sometimes slipped into miss felt's hip joint, just so they could love each other quietly.

and the seeds of the apple did what seeds do, and more of that and more....