Slowly the long knife in the gnarled hand of the magician carved downwards through the chilly air. Around him the grass kept growing faster and faster, inch by inch, as the knife slowly plunged through the refrigerated air like a floating acrobat in slow motion, like a hammer falling through cotton wool. He watched the trees shooting up past him, their towering branches reaching for the sky and he gradually cast his eyes toward the hard ground to watch the knife in his monotonous hand. The waves of the ocean beat silently upon the endless shore, the stars shone noiselessly down in the night sky, and the first rays of the rising sun glanced off the knife as it came closer and closer to the toy rabbit that lay unquestioning upon the ground. The hands of the clock continued to spin around with a faint whirring sound, and the horses dashed ceaselessly to and fro. After an eternity, the trembling hand of the magician brought the sharp knife into contact with the fluffy white fur, and cut.
A tall, slim person moved silently into the room and watched intently over the magician's shoulder. At last, the magician stood upright. Both men stared down at the toy rabbit, still lying in the same position as before.
"Was it a success?" whispered the tall, slim person.
"Yes," murmured the magician, sweat pouring from his face, as he glanced tremblingly at the motionless form of the woolly toy rabbit.
"Congratulations," said the tall, slim person. "You are now a qualified brain surgeon."