A continuing story of Chaz the GELF, bartender at the Intergalactic Truckstop.

So Chaz slips slowly down into the sap of the great old tree. Warm and comfortable, it takes his chest, his shoulders, his neck... Chaz closes his eyes and relaxes as it flows in over his muzzle, closes in over his head... Only his antennae now above the surface, drinking in the hot sunlight until the sap rises up and over them too and he is completely under.

If New Kew's monitoring satellites could detect happiness, Chaz would be showing in their view as a burning hotspot.

Once again, big thanks to chaz-fox for letting me play with Chaz. See him in his native habitat.

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