it's a five hour job, this sleeping gig...

i had a dream last night that my highschool softball coach and i were sitting in this lush green back yard..very coastal white picket fence...and a fireplace jutting out of the center of the whole thing...an enormous fucking fireplace...at some point i was drinking a lot beer from cans..young girls began showing up and systematically sitting on his lap..he was a tragic redneck santa clause...no one i would hire...the girls started flirting with me...the girls' faces became faces of people i knew or had known at one time or another in my life...then there were sounds of horror...screams...scuffling...hot hens all bustling about the yard and circling the fireplace...i recalled a moment -SNAP- when i took out a bag of cocaine and snorted a few lines of it with my coach...although this hadn't actually previously happened now that i had recalled it in memory, it inserted itself into the real...and there at the base of the monsterous fireplace was my softball coach, randy, in a sheriff's uniform dumping out my many bags of cocaine, the girls enveloping him in high pitched shrieks of disapproval...he used his hand to scrape it, the coke, about until he had spelled, 'its cocaine, fuck you'..at this all but one of the youngsters left me standing alone in the corner of the yard..the sky grew dark...the regret came in...the one, still remaining a fan of mine, pushed her way over to me...she held her tiny hand to my face and said, 'well go on. lick it. then breathe in.' i did what she said...she had wiped all of the coke from the bricks and while i could see the cat hair and tiny pieces of floor debris clinging to her hand i did what she said...i licked it...and then i took a deep breath in....at that i woke up in her bed on 29th street...