I saw one of those giant people-windsocks--you know, those ones that wave around and shit--and it leaned over and began to hug an ambulence. It was beautiful.
I was looking out at the cloudy sky and suddenly the clouds parted for the sun and it looked like I was about to be born if I would remember that and the inside of the human body was not red at all. Then clouds continued to shift and it turned into a bobcat riding a motorcycle before morphing into two hippos fucking. I am not shitting you.
I was cleaning out one of the microwaves at work and people looked all amazed and shit. Something exploded in there and people just let that shit sit there and crust. I can't eat and go back to my cube and my day without thinking of that damn crust. Mock me, will you, crust. I showed you, bitch.
Jorge keeps trying to attack my feet. He used to have a phobia of feet. We think someone kicked him, probably a man because he's scared of men. Well, not girly men, but dudes with testosteroney man-voices. I'm just sitting here typing and he keeps trying to do a drive-by on my feet: except he doesn't have a gun, he has claws and teeth he shoots at my toes instead. I cover them with a pillow, but my feet need to breathe and he notices again, making me having to hide them under a pillow until they need to breathe again. It's sad when the neighborhood declines like this.