My next novel features a chicken as a hard-boiled detective in a seedy neighborhood who finds himself in the soup. The chicken’s sidekick is a pig who’s a bit of a ham, who does all the grunt work when not swilling down drinks.

Their first case is in search of a sheep gone baaaad who’s on the lam. The sheep has amnesia and his memory is wooly.

It’s like a stroll on the beach

Going outside right now is like a sunlit stroll on a warm, sandy beach.

Except it’s dark, and cloudy enough to obscure the waxing gibbous moon, and it’s 31 degrees out, and that’s granular snow, not sand, under my feet, which are wearing boots, not sandals or barefoot.

Other than that, exactly the same.

Apocalypse when?

I am going to make a movie based on Conrad’s “Heart of Darkness” and cast it entirely with cats, and I shall call it “Apocalypse Meow.”

Also, I am going to stage a new version of Mary Poppins performed entirely by monkeys, to include the beloved big dance number “Chim-chimpanzee!”