A chipmunk nibbled a magic mushroom while perched on a branch. He watched the sun set purple and orange over the ocean, his evening routine. The chipmunk’s neighbor in the RV park was a writer bereft of a literary voice, probably because he used words like bereft. One day the writer left his typewriter outside on a picnic table, loaded with a roll of parchment paper. While the chipmunk tripped, he jumped off the branch, onto the typewriter, and tapped out a message to the writer:
I’ve broken through. I can help you.
PS: Leave a saucer of Hamm’s, cracklin’ cold.
The next morning the writer discovered the note as he began his novel, well, not really writing it, because he had nothing to say. He typed a note to Jimmy. When a psychedelic chipmunk reaches out, you best respond.
PS Hamm’s coming!