Friday, May 27, 2005


In my dream, my boss is not to be trusted and I know it. And the dog knows it too. Nobody's going to listen to him because he's a dog, but they might listen to me so I tell them that my boss is not to be trusted but they don't listen. I shout and holler and point and shout again but they don't listen to me and they're still not listening to the dog either and I'm running out of ideas.

I'm working in my nan's old living room in the house she sold twenty years ago again and I realise that I know where this is going and that makes me feel sad. This one had started differently, you know.

The there's the running bit but that's far from a surprise and the dog's turned on me but I'd been waiting for that to happen for some time. My boss has turned into a side of beef and the dog has turned into a vicious little bleeder and I'm out of friends right about now.

And then, naturally, there's the flying bit, because that's how these things always end.


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