Thursday, May 7, 2009

Night of the Living Dead.

Moments before falling asleep last night, I came across this picture on the web. At first it didn’t elicit much of a response—I was exhausted, kind of drunk and just not that interested in midgets dancing with cats. But then I passed out, and the vodka started running around my brain. And next thing you know, I’ve become that midget, wrestling with man-sized cats and fighting for my goddamn life. Right now the details are a bit fuzzy. But I distinctly remember spending what felt like hours running through fields of wheat trying to escape not one but six man-sized cats. I also remember clawing at my chest in a desperate attempt to remove that stupid suit the midget is wearing. My little legs weren’t churning fast enough, and that suit felt like an iron maiden wrapped around my tiny torso. Needless to say, the whole scene was terrifying. And right now I feel like kicking some cat’s ass. You know, as payback.

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