What did I say about port towns? Oh man, there’s two boxes of Hubba Bubba (grape n’ strawberry) down at the local Family Mart. I’m gonna go wholesale on their arse tonight.
The other night I sat on the bed in my blank room watching hour after hour of nature documentary. Some was narrated in English, some not. Animals chasing other animals, catching other animals, attacking other animals, killing other animals and eating the flesh. I hadn’t seen that kind of thing in some time. I think maybe I’d forgotten that it happens.
A cheetah biting ino the neck of a gazelle. Wild prarie dogs bringing down an old wilderbeast.
Two words that I am out of sync with society on are ‘hate’ and ‘nightmares’. At normal work I went through scripts like, “I really hate shoelaces”, “‘what about cats?’ ‘Oh no, I really hate them’, and I’d think — hate is a bit strong of a word for that isn’t it? I mean, love – not hate, people.
And the other day I heard someone say that they were having nightmares every night. Ouch. Sometimes I have dreams that extend into the darker end of the surreal, but I don’t know that I’ve had a nightmare in a long time.
I was swatting large clusters of bees or flies with a jacket. But then the interesting bit – I woke up, sat up, and I swear I saw this mugwampy thing hopping softly across the floor away from me. It looked like a cross between a mouse and a hamster, but without fur and almost rubbery in appearance.
I was so certain I saw it that I used the flashlight on my phone to look for it.
I didn’t find it.