Conditional Reality

Beancurd Funnelcloud invited her whole town to a party. Most of them came. Beancurd brought in a band, staged a bonfire, and put out a lavish banquet. A small woman with green hair, rotting skin, repulsive aroma, and an indecipherable accent came to Beancurd’s party. None of the other guests seemed to know who she was. Don’t mind her, said Beancurd, she’s my shadow being. This made the other guests uncomfortable. We didn’t expect to see shadow beings here tonight, they said. We all left ours at home. Of course, said Beancurd, so did I. This is my home, remember?