A druid wipes his bottom on a mossy rock, tosses the shitty, mossy rock into a waterfall plunge pool. The rock sinks in an effervescing shoal of silver and white bubbles and brown flecks. Every time this druid takes a shit, nature seems a little less divine. He rolls his robe back down so it falls around his ankles and heads back to his friends on the brow of the hill. It's a summer solstice party. The head druid is blindfolded, cock out, chasing around naked lady druids with tangled grey thickets of hair, downcast tits, blotchy skin. The head druid scrapes his shin on a standing stone and shouts, 'JESUS CHRIST ASSHOLE.' One of the naked druid ladies starts crying because what if stones have souls like people. 'Don't be mean!' She screeches. 'What if stones have souls like people?'
The returning druid who, crucially, was not around for the start of the scene, thinks the woman is shouting at him. He could have sworn he was alone at the waterfall.
'I'm sorry,' he says, 'but Mike forgot to pack any toilet paper. What was I supposed to use?'
Someone kicks over the hi-fi. The CD tray opens and the Enya CD falls out onto the grass, shiny side up. A moon beam is reflected onto the face of the 'what if stones have souls like people?' woman. A gruesome expression of horror. She begins to wail disconsolately. The head druid tries, nevertheless, to console the woman with a hug. Almost imperceptibly slowly, the hug turns into a tit massage, then quickly into the reverse cowgirl position.
Watching this, the druid from the start, the one who wiped his bottom on a mossy rock and then tossed it into the waterfall plunge pool, decides that maybe his shit isn't over after all. Come to think of it, he feels a bit sick too.
Back at the waterfall, he sits thinking about converting to Islam, or Catholicism...Judaism...any religion where he doesn't have to watch people with complexions like cut ham having sweaty, grunting sex under a too-bright moon.
Then something strange(r) happens. The plunge pool is all lit up by a peculiar light which shrinks the druid's pupils and starts the birds singing. A human figure rises out of the pool.
'Michael Yonkers...' The druid gasps. Michael is shrouded in holy bliss and merely smiles in response; he is holding a guitar made out of moss, and he seems to be wearing shoes made out of poo. His loincloth is made out of moss and poo. There's a shitty stone balanced on his head.
The Druid turns and looks to his friends on the hill. They look like gorged pigs or something. They are having an orgy to the lord of the rings soundtrack; they are making ugly noises and they look ugly. Still he thinks about calling them down. He looks to Michael Yonkers, but Michael shakes his head.
Mist rises from the pool until the only thing visible to the druid is Michael Yonkers. Michael starts playing his moss guitar, just for the druid.
To be honest, the druid wasn't sure if Michael Yonkers was taking the piss or not, but he liked the music a lot anyway.