Huge friggin’ bear ran over my foot. It was driving a Cadillac, big black one that had luminescent green hubcaps that spayed ginger beer. As I sat and nursed my sore foot by rubbing it with brandy, another car pulled up and a voice shouted ‘Hey mister, do you need a lift?”

The driver was a baby. An old baby. I don’t mean that this was a 1 year old, what I mean is that this kid was the size and shape of an infant but looked as if he were several centuries old. Creepy.

He had strapped 2 heads to his feet so he could reach the pedals. Richard Nixon’s and Ross Perot’s decapitated heads were dripping blood all over the upholstery and when I told him that blood was really difficult to get out of upholstery, he glowered at me and bellowed ‘Beware the power of the Salmon Fundi!’ and drove away at speed. A penguin, a flying penguin, took a shit on my head.

Then I woke up.

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