It was a building — no, a block of buldings, suspended, with immense legs, like a mechanical spider, with its belly made of soil dragging against the ground.

It was coming through the field, about to pass by the village, as if that were a casual event.

As if a bunch of buildings on top of a thick carpet of torn earth could develop legs and walk around freely, perhaps searching for areas with cheaper property tax rates.

Now and then somebody would fall from it, screaming (or did the sounds come from my imagination? Don't answer!). Were they pushed or did they jump? What the hell could be happening inside those buildings? Were they even more surprised than us? Or was some sort of revolution happening on the back of the buildings-block-mechanical-spider creature?

Then I saw it. Right in front of me, about 3 steps away: a frankfurters plant!

No more lettuce nor fruits, a plant that gives frankfurters! They dragged me to school every morning up to today, for years, and nobody ever talked about that, I've never seen a single book even mention a frankfurter plant. Loaded! The "spiderscraper" (good, uh?) must have gone away, I didn't pay attention. Who would, with a new life full of unusual potential, free from the nightmare of the quotidian?

What more could I want? Ah... this! Now it's perfect: catchup rain and a doe goat that gives mustard.