What in hell is going on here? It was like something from a bad hallucination. His clone just ate its own head! Now I've seen everything... PB mused to himself, reminded of a quote from a particular marionette movie. Shaking his own head to clear it, he stood, trying to get a handle on the complete and utter strangeness of it all. Nothing seemed to make sense. It was as if he were one of those marionettes, being toyed with by sadistic cosmic puppet masters. Oh look how he dances! PB could imagine them saying with glee.
He tightened his grip on the hilt, his focus intense. He needed to see through this facade of lunacy and nonsense. Lewis Carroll's rampant imagination be damned...