Dots

The T.V. repair man suddenly exploded into a million tiny pieces of green and could never hold a wrench the same.  He came to your door pixalated and shimmering.  Is that real or something we should comfort?  He swung his head with a powerful gusto, spinning his wiry neck in circles until his knees lost all tendons and snapped suddenly like an alligator's mouth closing upon it's prey.  Standing there, facing a skeleton of green, you shook his hand and said, "Thanks."