Tuesday, September 14, 2004

thyroid ballistics

i'm at a small card table in the desert.

the president is there.

so is jean claude van damme.

on the table is a hunting knife and a bottle of tequila.


Blogger stephen said...

Van Damme reaches for the knife, but is so hopped up on cocaine that he slits his wrists and dies on spot. Bush (I'm assuming, since you only say pres.) goes straight for the tequila, drinks himself into a slurry, and crashes his pick-up truck into a herd of cows. Hans is the winner by default, but in a strange twist of events, your dream turns into a necrophilia-porn, and you do bad things to the dead-yet warm-body of Van Damme.

That's usually how my dreams go...

12:49 pm  

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