the palace at 4 am

the bastard takes drugs at night.

no not those kind of drugs.

i'm allergic to the cat so i have to pack myself full of benedryl so i don't wake my ladyfriend

and the baby

and the cat

and perhaps the people who live downstairs.

anyway, i went to bed at one.

woke up an hour or so later and had to go to the bathroom

fell asleep and woke up in a dark room.


bewildered because i was sitting in the dark and disoriented from the benedryl, the bastard walked into a wall.

i was very concerned as i reached around me only touching flat surfaces, i envisioned that i had died

and had gone to hell.

and marcel marceau was the devil

and that hell is a small black box that you get to stay in for all eternity.

with a toilet.

i didn't have my knife, or my iphone.

i was horrified and reaching around in the dark until i wacked my hand into the towel rod.

and i realized that i wasn't dead.

relieved, i found the door,

left,

went back to sleep.

as the bastard drifted back into a benedryl induced slumber, somewhere in the distance, i could hear a mime crying.

—the bastard