Oh, it gets better. See, I wake up next to Lisa, and she see the mullet. So, as payment for getting a bad haircut, she slaps me. I try to ask her what she why hitting me, but the only thing that came out of my mouth was, "That's right, bitch. I like the rough stuff. Come on, come to daddy." So, of course, she slaps me again. Oh, it gets better. I wake up in my room, next to Lisa, in an incredibly enormous house, within which every single one of my friends live as well. Friends from work, friends from school, friends from both past and present, all living in this house. I begin to run through this house, trying to ask people who did this to my hair and why, but all that comes out of my mouth is, "Come here baby. Come here and let me shtoop you. That's right, you know you want it." So, from my point of view, I'm in hell, but from everyone else's point of view, Ben's just trying to be freakishly funny running around the house on a Monday morning with a terrible mullet and talking like Triumph. Oh, it gets even better. There's no mirrors in the house. Now, it's not like this particular house was designed without mirrors. No. All the mirrors that were there, are now gone. I'm constantly trying to look in a mirror or some kind of reflective surface to see exactly what I've become, but to no avail. In my mind, every that lives in this house with me, did this to me as I slept. In everyone else's mind, I'm a freak that fucked up his hair, likes to talk like a parverted puppet dog, and a mirror thief. And that's it. I wake up with my dream still in a state of limbo, me with a mullet, everyone else not understanding me. |
