”There is a rational explanation for everything,” says the sock puppet. The brown yarn above its button eyes is supposed to resemble my hair, but all in all it is a less than flattering portrait. “You’re just a big fat cheat,” it sneers.

“There is an explanation,” I say, “it’s probably…” I rack my brains as Tiffany closes the puppet’s mouth and opens her own.

“There is nothing above us but clear sky,” she says, “there’s nothing below us but air and then rocky mountain path, there’s no wind, and we can turn about 360 degrees in any direction, but we can’t get down.”

“It could still be some sort of virtual reality,” I say, “or a dream.”

“Really?” says Tiffany.

“Ok, so what if it is magic,” I say, “that’s still just science, we don’t know how to explain yet.”

“That’s still just science,” the puppet says with a high squeaky voice.

“Could you put that thing away?” I say, “we need to think of a way down from here.”

“You should probably just apologize to that old witch lady.”

“Not a chance.”

“I knew you’d say that. And I know you mean it.” Tiffany sighs and lowers the puppet and we both gently float to the ground. “I don’t mind your points of view, but you’re always a dick about them. I’ll go for a hike on my own, somewhere else.” She jumps into the sky and flies off into the sunset before I can ask her how she did it.