4536. The thought of the imaginary elevator in the imaginary
cruise ship suddenly seemed even more terrifying that an attempt to get back
into the little plane with the evil pilot.
4537. So Coromo, our hero, sat at his little table in his small room with his head in his hands and his imagination tortured him for no apparent reason.
4538. He could see himself in his mind's eye, stuck in the little elevator in the ship. The elevator got smaller and smaller until it was hardly bigger that a coffin, and still it continued to rock back and forth. Then it stopped, and began filling up with water.
4539. It filled with so much water that there was just an inch or so left at the top for him to breathe. He thought about the broad avenues of New York City, with their traffic and crowds; it was such a contrast to his plight, alone in a casket sized room filling up with water, somewhere in the middle of a storm tossed ocean.
4537. So Coromo, our hero, sat at his little table in his small room with his head in his hands and his imagination tortured him for no apparent reason.
4538. He could see himself in his mind's eye, stuck in the little elevator in the ship. The elevator got smaller and smaller until it was hardly bigger that a coffin, and still it continued to rock back and forth. Then it stopped, and began filling up with water.
4539. It filled with so much water that there was just an inch or so left at the top for him to breathe. He thought about the broad avenues of New York City, with their traffic and crowds; it was such a contrast to his plight, alone in a casket sized room filling up with water, somewhere in the middle of a storm tossed ocean.