Bean was sleeping. He liked sleeping. He slept a lot. Today he was dreaming about grass.
The grass was singing. The grass was dancing. The grass had sharp teeth.
The grass tried to eat Bean.
Bean woke up in his twoleg garden. He glared at the grass, getting up and moving a few inches beside the porch steps. Bean didn't like the grass anymore. He took a bite of the grass, chewing on it for a little bit before spitting it back out. The grass deserved it. Even if it tasted yucky. Bean rested his head on his paws, trying to fall back asleep.