Indoor outdoor plane crash
Posted on December 2, 2008
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I’m in the worlds biggest shopping mall which has glass ceilings on one section overlooking a city that looks grand as NYC in the days of the Twin Towers. Just walking along when a plane flies into the building from behind me, towards the city, out the other end of the glass, and explodes in mid air sending pieces of the plane inside the mall.
But none of the glass walls have fractured, broken, or even flinched as a burning airplane navigated directly through the window panes.
People of course scramble and the mall goes on lock down while fiery bits of plane fall from the sky into our mall grounds….mall so big that its more like an indoor town because we even have streets and school buses.
I decide to visit my friend Rommel who works in the main office of the mall to see what he suggests. Little did I know, Russian Terrorist Dmitry has an office right across the hall, overlooking a grass courtyard. He’s not much older than 30 and looks like the Russian guys (in real life) who fixed my computer not too long ago. Dmitry is a man who’s trying to charge me for an extra month of web hosting in real life.
So now we’re face to face. Just me and the terrorist web host trying to rip me off. He decides the bill is irrelevant and tells me to forget about it. I ask if he’s sure, knowing inside that I am already sure, but want to make a nice gesture.
I leave because he states he is busy.
Rommel, in real life, was an awesome tech support staff member for the hosting company I’m leaving unnamed, but is my friend in the dream who works at the mall and would know a secret way out or at least a safe room (thanks Left 4 Dead) in which to hide.
I nod at Rommel on the way out and we text each other about the situation. He knew all along but was unable to say anything for fear of his life. Now I know and Dmitry know’s I know.
At this point I hear what resembles an alarm in the dream but it’s my phone ringing with the Tropicana’s automated message system telling me about free weekday stays at their hotel. Of course, the robotic female voice sounded like something you might hear in a mall or train station.
At some point in this night I had another dream where I was about to piss myself, but woke up JUST in time.
I also had a dream that I took a shit on the end of a plunger and the shit went the length of the plunger and STAYED on it. I was at a friends house or something and had to clean it and of course it got all over me. There I am in my friend’s bathroom with my hands covered in shit all because I thought it would be funny to poop on the tool that generally removes poop. Irony strikes back at me instead as I ran out of paper towels and the toilet paper broke apart in my hands while trying to clean this massive two foot turd.
Left 4 Dead
Posted on November 30, 2008
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Played this game for a few hours last night, then dreamt I was in the game as a person fighting zombies.
Our rescue point was a military base facing a beach, and we had to fly an airplane out the back door, down the sand, and take off before driving the plane into the ocean.
I had to fly it.
i’m a stand in for wrestling
Posted on November 24, 2008
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i’m at what appears to be my high school, but surrounded by people from college…mainly one – bug eyed jess. and she’s friends with small kim from the local bar. i can see how those two would get along, both blond and oblivious.
apparently i’m to wrestle some college wrestler because the competition couldn’t make it. what the hell did i just volunteer for? i wanted to wrestle the pro guy and lose awesomely on national television, not get destroyed by some loser meathead with a retarded ear.
i don’t have sneakers. i don’t have a shirt. i don’t have anything but a spare pair of shorts. no way will i do this barefoot or topless, then spend the rest of the day in class itching the ringworm off of my body, nor will i do this in my normal clothes and itch the same way, then take the ringworm home and spread it to my cat and fish.
i can’t even go home real quick because i took the bus to school today.
the previous match was some prop filled stunt with people hanging from wires and some evil looking creation, not even sure it there was a human inside it, beat all the good wrestlers. i should’ve jumped on that bandwagon of assault and threw items at it from a distance.
then i wake up. good, no ringworm or retardo ear in the dream.
Your feet aren’t as fast as my wheels.
Posted on November 21, 2008
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There’s a street race on skateboards. Only rule is that you have to lie down face first on the board. First one to the finishline wins a Super Bowl trophy. The celebrity racing with us is Joe Montana, and it’s his trophy. Unfortunately for Joe, he flips his board into a wall and his old body quivers on the ground under an I-95 underpass.
There’s only two contestants left. Myself and the fastest Asian on foot – and he’s running against my wheels. But I’m on wheels asshole. I win.
I leave without the trophy. It’s a replica, and I’m not walking all the way home with a fake trophy because I’ll probably get robbed for it and blamed for that too.
My first threesome
Posted on November 21, 2008
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It’s about time. Walking up the plush cat fur in the corner stairs leading to a heavy metal hard rock skinny brunettes bedroom…with her skinny blonde friend of course.
Doesn’t seem like it’s their first time. They’re all too comfortable and eager; not hesitant in the least. Maybe a result of the crack the brunette took, or the ecstasy traveling the blood river of the blond.
I could care less because I’m about to fuck two girls for the price of one; one bird, two stones. You don’t get this often in lifetime without paying for it. My payment just happened to be luck…or maybe misfortune.
The girls are a bit violent, smacking each other around, calling each other dirty names. I get it. They like to role play…so i try to maintain composure and not laugh while spewing lines only Max Hardcore would say “force my cock down your dirty throat-hole” and “smash my balls on your chin” and “I want to fuck you and feel your insides.” All things that I’d only ever say in a joking way if imitating Mister Max in a creepy dirty old man voice. Nothing I’d ever expect to say during sex…or whatever you call this.
Handcuffs come out and the blond goes first. She’s attached to the bed and I realize the bedroom looks like ***** Drumore Place where I grew up. I didn’t realize the stairs and hallway leading to this fuck-club were similar…probably staring at two round bottoms on the way up, can you blame me?
The cracked out brunette is forceful with the blond, doing all the work as I play along to their demands. She wants me to open hand smack her in the face. But I refuse and replace the hand with my cock. I whack her clear in the cheek and across the nose with my boner and try my hardest not to laugh. In a brief three seconds, I imagine telling all my friends about this part, if nothing else.
After a while of what reminds of of dirty dungeon foreplay and bdsm, the brunette wants me locked up, but I tell her to go first because she’s better and needs a beating. Kind of playing along with their brutal little thing, but also because there’s no way two drugged up meatwhores are going to lock me up to a bed. No. Fucking. Way. I plan to make an exit as soon as I get off and do anything possible to keep myself out of the handcuffs.
But I fail. Miserably. Ten minutes of foreplay later I’m cuffed to the bedpost like jesus christ and I have two ravenous beasts clawing and biting at me. Literally. It’s worse than the painful embarrassment at strip clubs on bachelor parties where you humiliate your friend on stage with a stripper who beats him, fists her ass, then smacks him with a shit hand across the face.
It’s like they’re purposely covering their teeth and fingernails in my dna. I am getting fucked up in a way that I do not like. I finally get unlocked and the brunette wants her turn. I’m sorry, I’m not hungry and don’t feel like eating flesh or cleaning skin particles from my fingernails when I return home. Miss e-whore blond, you can do the dirty work.
And she does.
I watch and touch a little.
I stopped being horny like 20 minutes ago and it just became an interesting event, almost as historic as the first black president being elected this year.
The violent brunette has one arm locked to the metal Ozzy Osbournesque bed that has gothic vampire bats perched on the bed posts. Must’ve gotten them 20% off at Spencers. They creep me out. This whole situation creeps me out because it’s nothing like a college or amateur threesome on the Internet. Not the one’s I’ve downloaded where two hot girls appear out of nowhere dressed like strippers and have some insane amount of desire for an ugly to average looking guy. I’ll place myself in the average looking category thank you. I’m no Enrique Iglesias, but I’m also no Brian Peppers or Carrot Top.
After a few more frisky moments of the blond sexually torturing Brunette crackhead…or speedface….I can’t tell, both the girls slowly come down from their seemingly methodical high.
Blondie seems worried and rightfully so because Brunette pulls a knife from underneath the whore mattress. Fittingly, it’s a jagged gothic blade with a red crystal on a dragonhead handle. I think she bought this from the renaisance faire. I take that back. She probably stole it.
A man performs some lawn arrangements out front in the cul-de-sack, another Drumore feature I notice. Lawnmowers, mini chainsaws for bushes, weed whackers. Tools loud enough to wake you before the alarm rings.
“Cut me,” she says and holds the dragon pointed towards her arms and drags it slowly from wrist to elbow crease.
“No…not right now…I’m losing my feel” she replies in a misfortunate tone of voice as she pops another pill.
“Than you cut me” and she walks the blade from left to right across her skinny little neck, at which this point I just want to fucking choke her out because she’s ruined the experience and my dick is scared shitless to the point it crawled inside me and now I have a vagina.
“No, you have nice sheets, maybe another time” I reply, of course requesting another threesome, even though I’m not so sure that’s a good idea, but hey – that’s my dick speaking.
“How about… no?”
“Fine.”
She speedily unlocks herself from the fuzzy pink handcuffs and removes the arm garments she was wearing, to which point she reveals scars. Great. A cutter. She’s going to make a mess of this. It’s already ruined, but she has to stain something before I go home. Leave her mark. I get it. Weirdo.
She stands up facing the heavy metal poster covered wall to the left of the mattress, which by the way is in front of the window looking out the front of the house. This seems wildly more and more like ***** Drumore’s internal setting now that I pay attention to my surroundings and less to two creepy lesbian 24 year old bdsm bisexual drug addicts.
“Than I’ll do it” she growls in a voice deeper than you’d want to hear from a girl during sex. Almost trannyish and devilish at the same time. EEEEK!
I figured she would give herself a little slice on the arm just to watch it bleed and end the whole threesome experience trying to rubbing blood on everyone till they both pass out from drugs or something spiritual. I was utterly wrong.
Her right hand sliced a deep ten inch line at the bottom of her pelvis while facing the wall and her innards slowy drip to the floor like molasses dripping out a hole in the bottom of an old trashcan. Her left hand pulls her pail scarred belly skin towards her A-cup tits. She looks over her shoulder saying “this is what I’ve been waiting for” while pounding knocks and screaming ventilate through the metal screen door downstairs.
The blonde is passing out, too blitzed to have a clue on what’s happening. The Brunette is passing guts with a smile on her face. Touching them as they fall out.
“It’s the police! We’re coming in!” and the voice sounds so familiar.
But before they do, I run out of the bedroom, to the left, along the fence railing, to the right and down the stairs to them myself.
It’s Jerry fucking Orbach and Milena Govich from Law and Order, and an older fatter football coach from Torresdale Boys Club…my younger brothers old coach! This has turned into bizarro-land.
They bust in the shanty screen door like they’re on the swat team and I meet them at the bottom three steps leading to that front door and yell for an ambulance for the girl gutting herself upstairs.
They cuff me. My second time today “wink” and haul me in for questioning. An ambulance takes the girls away. Fixes the gutter slut, revs up the dopey Blonde, and drops them off where I’m at.
A gymnasium covered with tables in a square formation filled with law officials and police. I can still hear the lawnmower man outside. I have no idea where I am. Maybe it’s Torresdale’s gym, and there’s a lot of grass outside. Wonderful.
A lot of my friends are here. Probably getting asked about my character. Considering the girls scratched me up, I do look like I commited the cut, so of course I’m the one who looks guilty. Not the drugged up threesome girls…Do I usually cut people? “No.” Then why is my dna under their fingernails? “Ask them! They cuffed me to a bed and did this to me for fun. They were on drugs.”
“Five girls were found dead this week. Sliced in the stomach, just like that poor girl!! You do this to her? She’s got your DNA under her nails…what, did she scratch you to fight you off? What kind of sick murderous game are you playing here pal?”
“What? No.” I’ve been setup to look like a serial rapist and killer. These two girls have gone around all week killing other girls, and now they’re trying to put this on me? ON ME!!! Is this how threesomes end – in turmoil and anguish? Had I known that I would’ve dismissed the fantasy in grade school the moment I learned of it.
More of my friends come in. Alibi’s. Character analysis. Could I have really have done this? There’s threesome porn on my computer, so it must be me, the threesome killer! Well, that makes every male in America a killer than, because there’s probably threesome porn on every normal guys computer.
A lawyer of mine instructs my friends not to talk too loud so the girls can’t hear it and plot something. I get on the table some guy who knew me in college is sitting at and tell him to quiet down since the girls are two people across from him.
The background has a large projection screen playing bits of my life like a theatre film, but only I see its there. It’s my life flashing before me if this goes down not in my favor.
The lawnmower man has been mowing lawn all day. Will he ever run out of grass to cut?
The girls begin answering their questions. This goes on for dreadful hours.
I’m getting more sleepy than the Blonde when she was doped up watching organs slump to the carpet. Their parents must have a steam cleaner, because the carpet looked relatively clean.
Hours of dreadful questioning go by with the lawnmower man still mowing, and eventually the Blond gives in.
She can’t take it anymore. Her conscience ate her alive. Either that or she just wants a lot of lesbian sex in prison.
I’m off the hook and walking home alone…I wake up before my alarm because I hear the phone ringing, and outside my window I hear the lawnmower man.