Avant garde, no?

Whatever should I listen to, I wondered, as my sleep preparations came to their inevitable conclusion... How about... Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds?

Why not?

I drifted off into unconsciousness... and then I was at work.

I hate dreams in which I go to work, because:

1. You don't get paid.
2. You wake up, and you have to do the whole thing all over again.

Luckily, I was at work in the year 1924, so it wasn't quite so bad. Like they say, variety is the spice of life.

Anyway, I was laying out print advertising, when Vegie and SteveSteve showed up to ply me with alcohol. Vegie had vodka or something, but SteveSteve... SteveSteve had absinthe! Absinthe!


The thing was, everytime he made mention of his absinthe, he got bleeped out, by a distant explosion, or a goat neighing (or whatever goats do these days).. but on the very edge of hearing... abssiiinnnttheeee.

But why did SteveSteve have absinthe? And why were we in the year 1924? But more importantly... absinthe?

Before I could find out the answers to these pressing questions, I was awoken by my alarm clock... oh, for shame.

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