Johnny Sweeney was sitting in his Abrams M1 tank on the side of the road. "You're an Oddball for Pleasing Me" by The Chuckles was squawking on the radio. He turned the radio off.
For no apparent reason, he felt for his rib and his abdomen and his jaw. They were all there. That was good. Also, his paw was not warping. That was good, too.
He felt sincere. He must have had quite a nap. What time is it? He looked at the clock. Two p.m. About what you'd expect, still on schedule. The nap had taken no time at all.
He looked out the window. There was a grassland visible across the road, but nothing special to see. Probably time to get going. He started up his Abrams M1 tank and took off down the road. "Lalyjyba lyquojip," he thought to himself.