Jefferson’s Brother: My brother’s gonna kill us! He’s gonna kill us! He’s gonna kill you and he’s gonna kill me, he’s gonna kill us!
Jeff Spicoli: Hey man, just be glad I had fast reflexes!
Jefferson’s Brother: My brother’s gonna shit!
Jeff Spicoli: Make up your mind, dude, is he gonna shit or is he gonna kill us?
… I was on some fantasy tropical beach where alligators and humans coexisted. The alligators would just cruise by in the water, give you a glance, and continue on. It seemed a strange truce, like the alligators were somehow forced into this against their will. There were always a few of them floating off in the distance, watching, seemingly waiting. No one brought pets to this beach, because everyone knew the alligators would eat them without a second thought. “We won’t mess with you, but fuck Mittens,” seemed to be the alligators’ attitude. So I was sitting on the beach, taking in some sun, and I was talking to some guy, and we both agreed that some day, one of the alligators would for sure snap and attack a human, and that would be the end of the truce and all bloody hell would break loose.
Such are my nighttime dreams.
… and I wake to the tickle feeling in my nose like it’s running and about to drip. I grab a tissue off the headboard and blow it, but it’s bone dry. The only other plausible explanation that immediately came to mind is that something had crawled in there.
So, yeah - broke some stuff.