Saturday, November 09, 2002

Don't Die From Lack Of Sleep Day!

Die from the hallucination brought about by your lack of sleep. For example, put a handgun on your desk. Then just stand there until you believe you are not in your own study but rather in the parlour of a wealthy and reknowned society type whom you believe to be cuckolding you with the spouse you never had. The handgun was placed there on the edge of his desk by you, obviously, laying down the gauntlet if you will. When your ailing cat saunters past your line of vision, you will hallucinate that the society type has lunged for the gun because that is the cowardly thing to do. Grab his forearm and try to direct the barrel of the gun towards the enormous (and I mean big) mirror. Either you or the dude that's in your head should fire the gun and shatter that big ass mirror. That's when all of the socialites will run from the party in the ballroom to see what happened (ie. your mom will get up from watching 60 Minutes 2 to see what the cat knocked over). When a crowd has formed around the two of you struggling for control of the gun and women are shrieking and men are shouting for 911 to be dialed (ie. when your mom asks you what the hell you're doing) fire one more shot. Then the two of you should just look each other in the eye for a second, neither of you betraying who was shot, until finally one of you falls to the ground dead, leaving the other to stand there, mouth agape, blood-stained hands outstretched in revulsion at having done just what you drove up to this mansion to do.

And by the by, the one who falls down dead will be you since you only made up the other dude because you haven't slept in a couple days and you thought maybe you could hallucinate yourself some friends but it all went kinda haywire. The bullet should hit your belly. Van Gogh died that way I think. (Bullet to the abdomen, I mean. I haven't a clue what kind of hallucinations went through that faggot's head.)

Happy Don't Die From Lack Of Sleep Day!