I can say these things to you, honey
I was on my way to church with two of my coworkers, and we were supposed to be there at a certain time. We were late. We walked in late and you could tell people weren't pleased.
The layout was nothing I'd ever seen. It was a sort of amphitheater vegas lounge train church, the tiers all curving walls and seats placed along them, even facing away from the ostensible focal point, the minister. I placed myself in one of the seats facing away, both of my coworkers in the same general area. I tried to find the right place in the hymnal, but it was printed like the lyrics on a bad CD insert booklet. Every page had some sort of background art, and the words simply did not stand out enough.
I had to twist around and crane my neck to see what the minister was doing. At certain times he would bring down a projection screen to expound upon some point, but it seemed to be all with clips from movies and TV shows. I remember seeing something with Sandra Oh at some point.
One of my coworkers was talking loudly about the other one and his "obsession" with drawing. He was going on and on about how they went to a strip club and the guy spent more time drawing than looking. And the other one, I couldn't see what he was doing. Next thing I know, I feel an impact in my groin. Apparently he wanted me to know something and rather than just tell me or even pass a note, he took off his jeans and threw them at me. Who knows what he had in his pockets, but that hurt. I glared at him and emptied his pockets out on the floor.
That's when I woke up. I'd been sleeping on my front with my arms folded under me, and I had to turn off my alarm while both of my hands were asleep.
The layout was nothing I'd ever seen. It was a sort of amphitheater vegas lounge train church, the tiers all curving walls and seats placed along them, even facing away from the ostensible focal point, the minister. I placed myself in one of the seats facing away, both of my coworkers in the same general area. I tried to find the right place in the hymnal, but it was printed like the lyrics on a bad CD insert booklet. Every page had some sort of background art, and the words simply did not stand out enough.
I had to twist around and crane my neck to see what the minister was doing. At certain times he would bring down a projection screen to expound upon some point, but it seemed to be all with clips from movies and TV shows. I remember seeing something with Sandra Oh at some point.
One of my coworkers was talking loudly about the other one and his "obsession" with drawing. He was going on and on about how they went to a strip club and the guy spent more time drawing than looking. And the other one, I couldn't see what he was doing. Next thing I know, I feel an impact in my groin. Apparently he wanted me to know something and rather than just tell me or even pass a note, he took off his jeans and threw them at me. Who knows what he had in his pockets, but that hurt. I glared at him and emptied his pockets out on the floor.
That's when I woke up. I'd been sleeping on my front with my arms folded under me, and I had to turn off my alarm while both of my hands were asleep.