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epcot

conjurdude


El chupacabra tomó mis pantalones

el Jesús grande de la mantequilla


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ok, I'm officially freaked out now.
epcot
conjurdude


There was this huge party at what I knew to be my father's new house in Wisconsin, but it was a cross between my old house that I grew up in and the Pabst Mansion, rooms galore, but dad was nowhere to be seen. It turned out he was in a room, shacked up with a new girlfriend. He introduced me to her, and I was civil, more or less, but then, without warning, I snapped. I started throttling her, and slapping her, and grabbing her by her hair and slamming her head against any hard surface I could find. I rummaged around on the floor, found her CD collection, opened one up, bent the disc in half, and used the sharp edge to slash her cheek, then smacked the wound with the CD case. Then I dragged her out into the party and continued slapping her, until my dad pushed me into another room. We talked, and it seemed like he was going to drop her like a bad habit, when suddenly the organ player (yes, there was an organ in this huge freakin' house) started up with "Here Comes the Bride" and the bitch was standing there, cheek bleeding from my assault with the CD, grinning like a maniac (which should have been my job, dammit!). I launch myself at her, spit in her face repeatedly, and start trying to beat and choke the life out of her. She escapes to the front foyer, and I force her outside into sub-zero conditions, wearing nothing but a pink nightgown (honestly, who wears pink nightgowns?). I lock the doors, dead bolt them, put the security chains on them, and intend to leave her out there to freeze to death, but some damn-fool partygoer lets her back in.

All of a sudden, the setting and goal of the party shift, and I'm in this huge, cavernous video game arcade, which seems to be a cross between DisneyQuest and FAO Schwarz, because I see people I knew at both of those places working there. My goal suddenly becomes to find a shirt to wear, because apparently this huge place used to be our house, and some of the closets still exist in the place, and may still contain clothing of mine. But no, none do, and I take a taxi home with two people to I went to high school with, but haven't thought of in years. Then, as I'm having a conversation with one of them, and watching buildings go by that don't exist in Milwaukee, while riding on a freeway that doesn't exist. I wake up.

I'm really freaked.