The pipes rattled, and the metallic clanging sound grew more frantic with every second. The hollow pipes screamed with urgency, and from them echoed a quick, desperate scratching. The source was that of powerful claws, and squeezing through the tight tubes, the razor sharp appendages thrashed about, splashing water to and fro. It’s long, flat snout was first to penetrate the surface, and as the creature emerged, slipping and sliding upon the porcelain throne, it grew more fretful and anxious to know that once again, it had made a wrong turn. Perhaps it was somewhere along the Mississippi, it wondered, as it fell heavily to the ground. I must have traveled north, it thought, as it wove between the legs of screaming girls, peering up their skirts and fondly regarding the schools of fish and scores of butterflies. I would very much like to leave the suburbs, it yearned, as it traced the faint scent of gumbo. It grinned, flashing a wide, toothy smile, and then it continued on its journey back to the Bayou.