Last night I had my first dream since the turn of the millennium...
Four Czech ladies were sat beneath a lamppost, drinking three day old filter coffee and pouring the remnants of their stomach acid down a drain. Black children from all around used intelligent straws to slurp the, now frothy plasma from the sewers. The straws turned to leeches that found their way back to the rotting corpses of the anorexic Czechs (through a series of mole holes and underground tunnels) and latched themselves onto the nipples, quenching their thirst with the urine that spilt.
Three men came from the local tavern;
• The first was below five feet and was dressed all in black, save for one navy shoelace.
• The second man was nothing more than a wax mannequin.
• The final man was wearing nothing but a shabby grey beard wrapped around his torso. Wound so tightly that it was slicing his stomach like a hoard of baby paper cuts.
The men walked quickly then slowly in sporadic bursts and in complete unison. With each strike of heel to pavement, a wild loop of violin would ring. It wouldn’t echo – nothing ever does.
The men didn’t disappear, rather, they never existed.
Instead, the street was filled with bloodstained pigeon feathers.
The rain poured the remains of an Asian miscarriage.
A bullfrog sat atop a NatWest bank, frantically using his tongue to sweep the pale foetuses from the roadside, in a race to have the streets clean by rush hour. He succeeded with plenty of time to spare and in celebration burst open into fireworks and confetti. The other reptiles gawped in admiration of their uncle. He’s sat at God’s right side now, on Jesus’ lap.
I wonder if Jesus has a boner?