The descending guru is angry at the flu-lu. He and Lulu, his girlfriend, had an overshadowing weekend. He meditates up to the ceiling, to get some meaningful feeling. He is but a jolly musician, admired as an academician. His car is like a peach. It needs no gas; it runs on bleach. He's not alone; he brings a flower, a human pet, and lots of vigour. The human likes to chase a lake, especially one with waves that shake. The guru shudders at the skies. He wants to leave, but not without a prize.