I am starting to get the distinct impression that I don’t enjoy comedy any more. And I’m not entirely sure how I feel about it.
One of them was asleep on my front; the other one tugged at my hand, slouching her way down the wet, cobbled street. Both were deathly tired.
This is all an hallucination. I am currently strapped in to a dentist’s chair, in my old neighbourhood, having hallucinogenic compounds drip-fed directly in to my eyeballs.
What if a gift is shit? If the person who has bought the gift couldn’t give two rats arses about what the recipient derives enjoyment from or can make use of in their lives, then the gift will usually be utter crap.
Another adventure in the newest sci-fi dystopia serialisation of a story which will not be seen in a cinema near you.
I’m not bad with languages. I can pick up enough to cover the basics, and get by. I don’t speak German, but I do have enough to buy a sausage or a pretzel. Actually, no: that’s a lie.