Chapter 5 - The Final Straw

And if, by any chance, reader, you thought everything accounted up until now was the full extent of my adventures, you are sadly more wrong than sea lions trekking west to Azerbaijan to see a Silversun Pickups concert. You see, there is one more thing I must disclose to you.

The final thing. The weirdest, most absurd thing of all.

I woke up in my bed. I turned to the right (I sleep on the left side of the bed "like an absolute flipping dolt") to look over at my wife.

And she was actually still there, sleeping. She had not woken up before me. She looked... lovely.

This was it; I had gone insane now. Throwing myself out of bed and on the floor, I screamed with all my wimpy might, "NO! BACON AND BLUE CHEDDAR CHEESE FORBID! WHY? IT'S, LIKE, 7 A.M. TOO! NOOOO! WHY MUST THIS HAPPEN? HIMALAYAN COFFEE AND GOOPY FRITTERS AT A NIGHT CLUB IN URAGUAY WITH DISCARDED BRASSIERS FORMING A CROP CIRCLE, MUCH TO THE AMUSEMENT OF HIGH FORMER PRESIDENTS WHO ARE NOT EMPLOYED BY WALMART! AAAAAUUUUUGGGGGHHHHH!"

With this modest declaration, my wife, A.W., shot up from sleep. "Baby? What the uncomfortable imported jeans is going on? Are you alright to the degree everyone believes that you are with no compromise between opinions?"

Casually swaying upwards while bobbing my head, I raised myself up off the floor, grabbed some clothes, (The ones that actually matched – yes, I had truly lost every ounce of hope) and began to exit the room, all while stating, "Yeah, I'm fine. It's all good, babe, just, um... one of those dreams I had. By the way, gun's in the top left of the cabinet in the office, right?"