Green creatures extending first one leg, then another after blasts of water have failed to send them down memory's drain: you can practically hear them scuttle, pointed leaves raised defiantly like crab pinchers above the arborite of our countertops.

More simply stated, the paracosmos reflects a writer's interest in examining a (generally) rather small number of persons, or types of persons, in a variety of circumstances and relationships: he has marked out a portion of the world as his own and works upon it to make it his.

[…] God!—the words of the warlock are knelling in my ears!

Well, come on then, let's look slippy.