Rain spatters the window. The backyard looks like green liquid, a parsley shake.
The candies are a brightly colored glue of sugar and preservatives.
He doesn't like the cake, but he eats it, because it's cake.
A spider threads its web across the mouth of a stone lion.
His aquarium is a blue tub. The fish are plastic toys, and bob as if they're dead. He pokes at them to make them look lively. They lurch and sway in the water.
Throughout the game of Clue he glances at his phone, gets up to eat, and forgets what he asked the other players. He still wins. He's like a fictional private eye who looks unprofessional and gets dismissed as an idiot, only to solve the murder way ahead of the police.
A plot of dirt bakes in the sun. Nothing, not even a weed, grows in it.