Perhaps I’ll be standing at the top of a life guard tower, shielding my eyes from the sun glittering off the waves. Larger than life sea shells, starfish twinkling at the bottom of the turquoise clear water.
Perhaps I’ll sputter as chewed up sunflower husks fall from the ceiling, speckling my face.
Perhaps a lady made mostly of oblivious white hair will attack me with her strong arm, but Homer Simpson will save my life.
Perhaps I’ll stumble home at 4am and wash a bowl of uncooked rice, like I did that time someone gave me a pill.
Perhaps there will be a race with plump vampires climbing a steep wall, a vertical real life version of Frogger.
Perhaps I’ll lay frozen, a hunk of flesh, while the room is washed in television fuzz, as the room glares too white.
Perhaps a blackened lemon wedge will poison the world as it gets tossed from one unassuming salad to the next, with me following the acrid trail of destruction.
Perhaps I’ll have the world on dvd. Play the same moment in a broken record sort of way until I can manage to squeeze through a fence, just barely escaping.
Perhaps a lady will stand at my feet clenching and unclenching her hands, like she’s gearing up to smack me.
Perhaps I’ll be standing at the sink when a girl, skimpy in her slinky gold bodysuit, will let her lush tits spill from the skin tight fabric and piss all over the floor, like the two boys did before her.
Perhaps tomorrow I’ll wake up with visions of skunks sweeping their tails to a choreographed showtune the way I did today.
