Yah, so I bet yu gots yer bord face on, cuz yu thingks that travul between werlds is all eezee-peezee. Huh. A lot yu noe. Akshullee, it a lot mor lik wen yu sqweezez yersalf unner the ottoman so yu kin has boy tim, yu noe, wift the cheez doodulz an Batman comics, but then wen yu triez to gits out, yu is all sqweezed down to lik that cardbord stuffs. An yer mouft tayste lik them dil pikkulz. Onlee wers.
Mr. Tygr akshullee had a littul bettr tim of it cuz he doezn’t has bones.
Annewae, I hads all theez big planz fer wen we arrivd at Narnia, lik getting to noe som beevrs (whu’ll be verree impresst that Mom werk at MIT), and havin a frendlee dool wift Reepicheep.
But the weirdest thin happind. Just as we sqwozld our wae out of the clozit an thrugh the unnerbrush, we herd this verree singyoolr sound, lik a whoosh of wind and a clatterin sound. At ferst I thogt it must be som extra-larj chikkinz, but then I realized that it was commin frum far abov us.
The White Wich? But it not winter heer. An aneewae, she alreddee got kilt.
This whut we in the writin biznis calls a cliff hanger. It’s sort of like when yu wants to tayk off yer fansee coat rigt befor a big figt, but ther no place to puts the hanger except on a nearby cliff.