I'm alone, yes.


But I don't have to think I am.

Yes, I have all these friends here with me.

Valleri, for example.

Davy loves that chick.

He sure likes saying her name.

Here's Mike now.

We're frollicking on the Tapioca Tundra.


Now I'm going to go to the post office and check my box.

P.O. Box 9847.

No replies today.

I'm sad.

Now I have to go to court.

I didn't do it, your honor.

Your honor is Grizelda?

I didn't know this was Auntie's Municipal Court!

Now my royal friends are coming.

The kings of Zor and Zam.

They wanted to have a war.

That sounded like a nice enough idea, but nobody came.

Here's Mike again.

He's not just blue.

He's nine times it.

Mike, what happened?

He was a fool.

Here's Peter.

He's walking down the street.

He's lonely just like me.

I'll tear the top right off his head.

That's gotta hurt, but he told me to.

There's Mike AGAIN.

He's talking to himself.

I'm scared of him now.

D.W. Washburn.

He's right there.

He's singing.

We're singing.

I don't know why.

He's in a pretty big mess.

No life.

Poor guy.

Here comes Davy Jones.

He says it's nice to be with me.

I'm running away from him now.

I'm on the run.

Me and St. Matthew.

That's what she calls herself, anyway.

Here we are on the run.

Now there's a porpoise.

He's friendly.

He's laughing, though.

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye...

There's Micky.

He's making up a story as he goes along.

Why won't that girl just let down the darn hair?!

Mike's back.

He seems significantly cheered.

He's singing about a dishonest sky.

I don't get it.

Now we're digging it.

I love my friends.

I love digging it.

And knowing.

I'm not lonely, me.

Peter's back.

He doesn't want to do this all over again.


I won't tear your head off again.

You did fine the first time Peter.
He agrees.

But obviously someone doesn't.

Micky's here again.

He's sad.

We're gonna go to Tear Drop City.

I guess that's where his girlfriend is hanging out.

It's Davy!

He's sad too.

He says he's got soul.


I'll think about that.

But he doesn't have a dream.

That's funny.

I guess daydreams are different than real dreams.

Micky's trying to look at somebody through a looking glass now.

That doesn't work well.

It's easier to look through a normal window.

Or maybe just to look at.

Not through anything.

It's Mike.


Life is hard for him to touch.

I say, don't touch it, man.

It's sticky.

You'll make a mess.
Oh well.

Me and Davy have seen what time does.

Haven't we?

We've both had time to grow.

But he hasn't grown.

He's still short.

Mike is crying.

How sad.

But those are my friends.


I'm not really alone at all.