These days I don’t sleep much. Even with the aid of a good round o’ Nyquil I end up waking up in the middle of the night with sweaty panic from zombie dreams – intense, roof jumping scenes where the disease is spreading and in my dream state I have no control over events surrounding me. One minute I’m the hero about to stop the onslaught, the next I’m just watching the hero get onslaughted. Onslaughtered. Unslottly.

Anyway, this wonderful morning, at around 4:20 in the am, a ring a ding ding from personal assistant, Mr. Sal Fone, gave me a jump to which I assumed was the morning bell, but alas! it was just a good time on the phone with a great little hiccupy voice on the other end.

So sad times are over. We (as in me) can’t slow ourselves down with the humdrum of the modern work ethic. And second phone calls from employers across the world, coupled with the first site of reality moving in and saying I actually could make it to Nevada. To soon to tell Kuhar?

See you in the morning, computer.

Up Next: Mr. Carlisi