Well, it’s the big day. I meet Cū. If he likes me, boyhowdy, us Valhallans will be, once again, blessed with one of Bast’s sacred children (ya know, in addition to Skitter). Ten and Jen feel I’ve nothing to worry about. The shelter has even taken down Cū’s webpage.
I must be calm and patient. It’ll take a little while for our fresh boy to adjust to his new kingdom. I can’t rush this. MUST STOP WORRYING!
. . . poppies, poppies, poppies will chill me the fuck out.
No. I’m not an opium devotee—I’m thinking of meditating on the beauty of the flower. I can do that while ellipticalling. Maybe that’ll cut this nervous energy.
And now my beauties, something with poison in it I think, with poison in it, but attractive to the eye and soothing to the smell . . . poppies, poppies, poppies will put them to sleep.
~ Wicked Witch of the West
Now it is well known that when there are many of these flowers together their odor is so powerful that anyone who breathes it falls asleep, and if the sleeper is not carried away from the scent of the flowers, he sleeps on and on forever. But Dorothy did not know this, nor could she get away from the bright red flowers that were everywhere about; so presently her eyes grew heavy and she felt she must sit down to rest and to sleep. . . . "If we leave her here she will die," said the Lion. “The smell of the flowers is killing us all."
~ Excerpt from The Wonderful Wizard of Oz