Wonderland

The day dawns on streets congested with airbags. Offices are mausoleums. Tree skeletons crystallize at the banks of an aluminum river. Adults hack relentlessly at sheets of glass and plowed through drifts of Styrofoam peanuts while children in space suits rolled out of garages, molding giant after-dinner mints with plastic buckets, which they feed to abominable doughboys that stand at the curb gnashing ice-shard teeth. Life lies embalmed beneath shrouds of bubble wrap.
The neighborhood contentedly suffocates in marshmallows.