The year is 2012. You are standing in a desert. A lush, tropical desert, surrounded by fruit trees. There are many, perhaps thousands of fruit trees in this desert. Fallen fruit litters the desert floor, and you are literally up to your knees in juicy and delicious fallen fruit. Even the dense vegetation which forms the tropical desert canopy is covered in fresh, luscious fruit. Desert might not be the right word for this place, but ever since you were stung by a very peculiar bee about 30 minutes ago, desert is the only word that comes to mind.
Suddenly, an elephant arrives. He has been following you for quite some time. You were able to evade him once, perhaps you can do so again.
"Your bus pass, sir," he demands. He appears agitated, ready to strike at a moments notice.
You reach into your pocket and pull out a folded and wrinkled copy of The Watchtower, circa 1988. His eyebrows raise, and you can't help but smirk. You both know that this encounter will be far different from your last.
Marcus! Happy goddamn birthday! I tried to call you. It was a valiant effort, but to no avail. Hope you had a good one, man.