Dreams
Last night I dreamt I was in Hell. And Hell, as I have always suspected, and as it turns out, is a giant outdoor airport terminal in the middle of Arizona. So I stood there in eternal wait, the terminal filling up with people I hate and emptying them out just as quickly. My only friend was a bodiless lhasa apso with a penchant for skating around on nickels glued to its neck hole. And everything smelt of freshly poured yeast media petri dishes.
And you were there. And you . And you . And you .
Eventually, I was picked up by my own personal demon who would spend eternity alternately beating me and salving my wounds with hot fudge sundaes. Except on Wednesday when I would be taken on cultural field trips such as WWF Smack Down and Jerry Springer tapings.
And you were there. And you . And you . And you .
Eventually, I was picked up by my own personal demon who would spend eternity alternately beating me and salving my wounds with hot fudge sundaes. Except on Wednesday when I would be taken on cultural field trips such as WWF Smack Down and Jerry Springer tapings.