An environmentalist's nightmare

A moment later Arthur saw the window, and, followed by Arthur, Hannibal and Sausage the Pineapple Lizard, fell out of it, having seen it a moment too late. Not a moment too soon — the Seive was crunging through the forest like an environmentalist's nightmare after that extra helping of lentils — eating everything in its path — trees, soggy teabags, vegetable marrows, evolving marrows, minor first century heretics, second class railways carriages, light orange kettles and the Antiplautus, who was too busy gloating over having his characters all in the same plot and entirely at his waste-disposal to Aararaghkrummnlphtmm. Hic!

    The Seive had never eaten antimatter before — but it was not at all fastidious — it was only a spelling mistake.

    "I know he was the author!" said Arthur. "What a way to go — eaten by your own spelling mistake!" Meanwhile, the Seive was starting on outer space — apart from the marmalade, which it spat out, giving rise to the creation myth of another minor species, namely that God is the rapid movement of a series of slightly soggy pieces of cooked orange peel — which begat Abraham, which begat Isaac, which begat Jacob in the usual way, because all creation myths have A, I and J respectively...