Martin Luther King can fuck off because the dream I had a few nights ago was much better:
I was in the woods with my best mate (was best man at my wedding) and my parents’ old dog. Now, while this obviously provided some rudimentary cover from the 300ft Kate Humble that was after us (oh yeah, there was a 300ft Kate Humble after us, forgot to mention that) it was clear that it wouldn’t do forever.
So, we decided to leg it across the field to the building about 300 metres away which felt sort of like home but looked like a medical research centre.
It was now a bit foggy but we managed to get inside and I couldn’t resist turning around to see how much we’d out-run the Kate Humble by and if, hopefully, we’d lost her. We hadn’t as she came lurching out of the fog and into view after a few seconds and promptly trod on the people that were laying crazy paving which all of a sudden made perfect sense for no reason.
So, we both immediately scrambled around for somewhere to hide but I chose a much better place than my mate who didn’t seem to have a clue how to handle the situation. The building was never going to offer much protection from a Kate Humble of this size and it wasn’t long before she’d torn much of it apart.
It only took her a few seconds to grab my mate and now she was looking for me. As she peered into the window of the room where I was hiding my brain then decided she was a T-Rex instead; lazily lobbing in a stock memory of the one from Jurassic Park that looking into that Jeep. I distinctly remember thinking this was something of a turn up for the books as a 30ft T-Rex, although scary, could nevertheless cause significantly less damage, and would be much easier to outwit, than a 300ft TV presenter.
Anyway, as it looked in it wasn’t starring directly at me but my mate’s head, which was hanging from the side of its mouth, was. Which was unpleasant. I then woke up. The End.
