Avant garde, no?

It was around 10pm, and I was making sleeping arrangements.

First I got into my Thomas the Tank Engine PJs. Then I brushed my teeth and relieved my bladder and washed my hands.

Then it was time to choose this evening's musical choice.

Ever since I was a very small child indeed, I've always listened to music while I'm going to sleep.

Tonight I felt like returning to the heady days of 1996, via the Triple J Hottest 100 Volume 3 CD.

Oh, the wonders that awaited me.

Coolio's tales of a Gangster's Paradise.
Oasis' sweet serenade of a Wonderwall.
Jill Sobule's ode to lesbianism.
A song about pot by some guy, you know.

But then... tragedy struck in the form of, "Hey, the CD doesn't work!"

So, I went to sleep without music.

So, there I am, standing on this pier, fishing.

There's another guy sitting a little while away, so I walk over to him.

"How are they biting, sir?" I enquire of the man.

"How is anything biting, friend," he replies, "How are anything? Why?"

"They must, sir. They simply must. It is innate. It is clear why, for why not?"

"Why not indeed, young friend. But the real question is: Who ARE you to wonder such things."

"A good question, sir. Who AM I to question the nature of such things?"

"Who are you? Full Stop."

I looked down at my feet, and saw that I was melting away.

"Holy shit," I screamed, "Don't you see what's happening to me?!?"

But he was gone.

And then I woke up.

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