It is 2 o clock in the morning and I'm trying to go back to sleep.
I was woken up from the perfect dream by these wailing primates next door having a party.
In the dream I was hanging with this chick and suddenly a zombie breaks into the house. So I grab the zombie and fling it out the window, and then think, oh shit, it is going to be back. So I run to the closet and get my gun out of a bag. By this time the zombie is in fact back and it has evolved into a velociraptor for some reason or another but I shoot it and it is dead. This is about the time I am woken up by the banshees. And to think, it really could have gotten good. God, god, goddammit.
They still have not quieted down. What in the world could they possibly be so excited about? Well they are all drunk as hell I imagine. And probably having screaming orgies and wild drinking games. I think about heading outside and following the sound and just showing up. I'm sure they wouldn't care.
But then I hear another guy whoop and I realize I could never be a part of that, that I'll never understand those simpler pleasures and I'll never whoop like that and I'll never understand what causes such loud noises. I hate them. Shut up. I have opening shift tomorrow. Shut up.
I start to wonder what I would think if suddenly I heard a series of loud gunshots and wild yells. Would the old human empathy kick in? Would I lie here horrified and call the police? Or would my mind stay cold and cruel as it is now and just lie here and wait until there is finally silence so I could go to sleep. What if they were attacked by velociraptors?
Strange thoughts at this time of night.
