So, this is the kind of story you get at one in the morning when you roll "Rory's Story Cubes." Or at least what I came up with...
Once upon a time there was a little boy named Hank who had an extremely vivid imagination, or something. Hank liked to read all sorts of stories. Sometimes, the stories he read translated over into the dreams he had, depending on what he was thinking about when he fell asleep, or something.
One night, after having his favorite dessert Hank read a story about an Indian princess who loved nature but was terrified by fire.
So, as Hank fell asleep that night he was thinking about the Indian princess as well as how much he loved his mama’s apple pie. Thus, Hank’s subconscious had a decision to make. Was he going to dream about the Indian princess or the apple pie?
Apparently, all of these conflicting thoughts of nature and fire and Indians and apple pie led to a sensory overload, or something, because that night, Hank dreamed that we was locked in a tower. And what’s more, the tower was aflame and there was no way out. Hank dreamed that he was burning to death and through the solitary window he could see countless Indian princesses laughing at him. As the flames started to engulf him, Hank realized his burning flesh smelled like fresh cut flowers and apple pie.
Hank woke with a scream and realized he had wet his bed. Having heard his screams, Hank’s mom raced to his room to see what was the matter. Hank recounted his dream to his mother and after she consoled him and put fresh sheets on his bed, he went back to sleep.
When Hank’s mother went back to her bedroom she said to her husband, “Damn it, Phil. You have to stop leaving your coke around. This isn’t the first time I’ve mistaken it for sugar and added it to the pie. You know what it does to your son’s dreams. You get to clean the sheets this time.”
One night, after having his favorite dessert Hank read a story about an Indian princess who loved nature but was terrified by fire.
So, as Hank fell asleep that night he was thinking about the Indian princess as well as how much he loved his mama’s apple pie. Thus, Hank’s subconscious had a decision to make. Was he going to dream about the Indian princess or the apple pie?
Apparently, all of these conflicting thoughts of nature and fire and Indians and apple pie led to a sensory overload, or something, because that night, Hank dreamed that we was locked in a tower. And what’s more, the tower was aflame and there was no way out. Hank dreamed that he was burning to death and through the solitary window he could see countless Indian princesses laughing at him. As the flames started to engulf him, Hank realized his burning flesh smelled like fresh cut flowers and apple pie.
Hank woke with a scream and realized he had wet his bed. Having heard his screams, Hank’s mom raced to his room to see what was the matter. Hank recounted his dream to his mother and after she consoled him and put fresh sheets on his bed, he went back to sleep.
When Hank’s mother went back to her bedroom she said to her husband, “Damn it, Phil. You have to stop leaving your coke around. This isn’t the first time I’ve mistaken it for sugar and added it to the pie. You know what it does to your son’s dreams. You get to clean the sheets this time.”
Moral of the story? Unless you like having to wash piss out of bedclothes, don’t leave your cocaine in the kitchen.
1 comment:
bahaha! lol. yes. I laughed out loud.
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