The Drizzles stared at IgI and the goldy for a while, and then abandoned the situation. He walked back. letting a furry tentacle drag on the ghostly city floor.
He walked back to his buckets. The feelings inside them had already changed. He shook the first bucket gently.
The emotion was growing inside of him. At first, he couldn't determine what it was. Some sort of anxiety. A neurotic one, probably. He dipped deeper into the feeling. Yes, it was an anxiety. The worry that your spouse and yourself might both be carrying tay-sachs genes. It was a strange emotion, quite Jewish.
He let the pendulum swing of the bucket slow down, until the feeling was gone. He then moved to the next bucket, and gently tugged at it.
Now the emotion was dual. he had to swing harder to determine the polars. It was what you feel when a famous talk show host, say Jay Leno, is being hospitalized. The first polar was envy shaped, and quite glad to find out the man was human after all. The other was a mix of empathy and concern, with a hint of worry whether your favorite show will ever be back on screen. All in all, not a bad bucket.
He turned to third buckets. Just staring at it's content induced a yawn on The Drizzles. How wonderful! It was the bucket of lazy tiredness. A very rare and well appreciated emotion. The Drizzles gently pushed it, and surrendered to the sweet tiredness. It spread inside him more and more, until it engulfed all.
He fell into a Serene, deep, dreamless sleep.
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