There was a day where I didn't feel like doing much.
Well, days like those seem to come and go like malaria in a swamp - you don't know how you ended up in the middle of it, but you're sure you feel funny... in a bad way.
I'd continue with that metaphor, but I was sure something was off about it. It had me wondering just what the frak I was thinking about when I fell asleep.
And then I woke up, doused in nachos and asking the cars next to me if they knew why they call it a "white wedding." The cars had no answer, but the tyrannosaur pointed down the street and mentioned that I find someone by the name of Phil.
I thought to myself: "I don't know any Phils." But I shrugged, walked the eighteen blocks (three of which were on fire), and at the end of it all was a man with a green bandanna on his head.
"If you are looking for Phil, then he is no more. I killed him."
I felt a tad dejected. I was going to learn why they called it a... w-what was it supposed to be called again?
The green bandanna man sighed and stated: "Look up." And I did. And I saw this sentence.
Without warning a Nimitz-class aircraft carrier fell from the sky, right between me and bandanna man. I looked up and began wondering just how this impossible feat was accomplished. I asked myself if this was a dream, because nothing was making sense.
And then I stopped eating the sugar.
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