The Curse of Karma
I guess after spending more time than ordinary bashing the looks of Michael Phelps (which wasn’t an issue before Dennis analyzed his fucked up face) I had my payback, which was an extensive dream of not only having Michael Phelps in my dream, but attempting to be him too. Sure, some would argue that being Michael Phelps wouldn’t be that bad - the whole being good at something and the money that follows. However, if I were Michael Phelps and anyone gave Dennis a thousand dollars, I would be tongued by Dennis along my teeth. Sick.
Anyway, so in my dream I had received two bronze medals for events unexplained. I did, however, grab both medals, which suddenly turned into big, bronze ears, and hold them up to my head and go “Eh he, I’m Michael Phelps!” at which point I saw myself as Michael Phelps holding up very exaggerated ears up to my head. What this means, I’m not sure. But clearly, given the choice, I would have dreamt about something far more pleasant, like Dennis’ smooth, flat surface. Curse you, karma!
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I lick your mouf.