AAAHHH! Burning ball of flame in the sky! What is it? I feel it penetrating my spongy, mushroom speckled skin! It's making the clouds go away! Come back clouds! I can't remember life without you! It's drying up the water! How will I breathe without water? I'm starting to flop around, my tail fin is begining to ache. If all the water dries up, where will I go to spawn?

Um. OK. Got carried away with that spawn joke. I know.

I had that dream again where I was back in high school. But, it wasn’t like I was re-living my early years, I had long since graduated and I was back taking new classes, like I was trying to get my P.H.D in Home Ec., or something.

In fact, I was a senior again. I was cocky. I would wander the halls when I should have been in class. I didn’t even have a hall pass. Whenever anyone gave me shit, I was like, “Read the student I.D., Jr. I’ve been here for eight years! I’ve got seniority! I got my diploma when you were still making pictures of a turkey by tracing your hand.” (I have no idea why the hell I used that as an example).

I would sit out in the courtyard soaking up the sun while teenagers scurried to their home-rooms. When I decided to actually attend a class, I would wander through the new building that they recently added, trying to find the room number. I’m not sure what crazy system the kids of today are using, but all the rooms in the new building had the same number, and it wasn’t the number I was looking for.

In my dream, there had been a candy store which had been demolished to make way for the new building. As I wandered the halls, looking for my class, I remember thinking, “They tore down the candy store for this shit? What a waste.”

My alarm clock woke me up at roughly that point, which is fortunate because all the dreams I’ve had about high school have ended the same way; I realize that I have to stay there another year because I’ve been missing my morning gym class all semester. So, thank God for that.

Snooty Bartender: Good evening, sir. And what would you like to drink?
Jon: I’ll have a Mike’s Hard Lemonade.
Snooty Bartender: I’m sorry sir, but we can’t serve that drink to men.
Jon: …huh?
Snooty Bartender: We reserve Mike’s for our female patrons.
Jon: What? Why?
Snooty Bartender: Because it’s a bitch beer.
Jon: A bitch beer?
Snooty Bartender: Yes sir, a beer consumed by bitches.
Jon: So you’re saying all women are bitches?
Snooty Bartender: What I’m saying is that men order beer, and women order malt beverages. Men who consume malt beverages are bitches.
Jon: And what do you call women who drink beer?
Snooty Bartender: They are still women, and more appealing women, if I may say so.
Jon: But I don’t like beer.
Snooty Bartender: I believe that is a common side effect of having your testicles removed, sir. Why don't I just pour you a nice cold gingerale.
Jon: Sigh. Fine.