That Silly Sunday

Theme: comedy

Created 7th November 2011 by , finished 9th April 2012

It was a Sunday much like the rest, no alarm clock just a slow return to consciousness at some random hour of the morning. The sun had been trying to penetrate my daze for some time but through the sleep in my eyes and the fog in my head I was unable to greet it confidently. I rolled so the pillow received the brunt.

of the sun's malicious onslought of happy. "WTF?" I thought. "Why can't i feel my face?" Under cover of the pillow i reached up to wipe my eyes and jammed my fingers into a hard chalk-like surface. "Oh that's right - I got plastered last night." Fragmented memories began

The last relatively clear recollection involved a Maalox bottle, pink taffeta and a craving for tapioca pudding. Though I'm not sure why because I generally prefer butterscotch. Why am I wearing a clown costume?

I would have to worry about all of that later though as, before I could clear my head, a large purple mouse in a green wedding dress roared out of the gloom and skidded to a stop nrxt to me. "Hurry, get on, we have to help Alice.". Who is Alice, I thought as I straddled the seat and clasped my hands around the succubus

This succubus of sorts screamed like a banshee as we roared on through the night. The sky turned to a light pink haze as the road we were traveling seemed to go from flat to straight up, though the clouds. I felt queezy, but as we sped on, the smell of roasted marshmellows and the warm air had me suddenly at ease.

We skidded to a stop besides a morose looking elephant sitting next to a bonfire. She looked ridiculous holding a stick (that was much too small for her feame) with two charred up little marshmellows. The succubus grabbed the stick and we sped off again, destination unknown.

We plunged at a dangerously high speed through the darkness, glancing cautiously in the rear-view mirror to see if she was still behind us. She was... and she was slowly gaining on us.

"Nevermind THAT" a voice boomed from the darkness ahead, "Just follow the yellow brick road..." As the voice faded, I felt the bike slow, sputter to a stop and tip slowly. What was that glorious smell? I inhaled deeply, curling into the fetal position in the beautiful field of blown poppies, poppies, poppies ...

I rolled in the field for hours, maybe days, maybe minutes - then, suddenly, I noticed that I was not alone. There, standing by my tipped over bicycle was a heavily intoxicated, rather short, orange colored fellow. I slowly began to realize that the glorious smell from earlier was really

that tiramisu I had to go from the restaurant, but I had rolled over it in my sleep and I minded but the orangatang didn't as he chased after me with the frevor of a fat woman on a diet, but I was faster until I realized there was also a bull in the meadow with us and suddenly no one wanted dessert just safety.

The bull snorted --and belatedly I realized that I was wearing a red shirt, just like the away team girl on Star Trek who gets devoured by a giant lamprey, so I whipped off the shirt and badabingbadaboom, the bull was confusticated
and I was saved from an untimely goring ... now, if I could only find my car keys

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