Behind the wall was a bar and behind the bar was Skratch the Cat. The Wabbit put a paw into the blue. It merged with the blue and tingled. "What will you have?" asked Skratch. "What have you got?" replied the Wabbit. "You can anything you want as long as it's blue," said Skratch. His voice sounded blue. "I'll have a
Curaçao," shrugged the Wabbit. "Just as well," said Skratch, "that's all we have." He offered the Wabbit a blue glass with a blue liquid. "What is this place? Why are we here?" asked the Wabbit. Skratch polished a glass. "This is the Blue Bar, where everything is safe and secure. Do you feel safe and secure?" The Wabbit grimaced. "Not particularly. I find it dreary." "Do you?" asked Skratch. He paused. "This is where I go in recurring dreams. I'm running a beach bar. People come in and go out. In between I serve them blue drinks." The Wabbit thought about it, because there seemed to be nothing else to do. "If this is your recurring dream, Skratch - do I visit?" "Never seen you in here before," smiled Skratch, He began to hum a blues tune. The Wabbit backed away slowly and dragged his paw out of the blue. It stopped tingling. He blinked. There was nothing there. No bar, no Skratch, no blue glass. He was back in the corridor...
