As he talked, odd brufs and raas came out of his mouth, some of them catching the air and scattering, others dripping onto the floor where they formed odddly misceneal pools, continually erupting and seemingly digging into the ground, leaving the impression of a badly scorched door with paint 50 years thick.
There's too much, he thought but this too escaped into the air.
Alan, on the other hand, was still mystified. He's starting counting his toes at midday, by the News, and still hadn't finished.
It's like they don't know how to stop, he thought, watching the new toes bud-out and force themselves into line. One foot had approaching three hundred toes, all wiggling and now stretching from the foot of the bed to the Paris Hilton shaped lamp near the window.
The brufs and the raas continued to spill until the bathroom was filled with words.