The Daydream

If I'm lucky, I could use this as a method to contact Jack from LOST and tell him to give up, his senseless otherwise boring existence doesn't entertain me, not anymore at least. At work, stuck in the coatroom. Could be worse, I suppose I could be stuck in the closet, jokes would be never-ending like that Story. Professor tore me a new one not cause I didn't show, cause I didn't call. Ack, I was out cold the whole day. Those rewrites are due Monday, overjoyed to start those.
As of now, I hunger. Hunger causes silly mental images otherwise known as daydreams. My Daydream for the day: Punched someone, a girl... in the face. Blood came out of places it shouldn't. I realize I didn't punch her, I sliced her... with a knife... that know resembles a bat. A gold star appears. Cops apparate out of thin air. My middle finger goes up like an erection. Two flashing stars appear. I beat a man for a car. He called me a name that didn't suit me in anyway. I drive away. Drive-by. Four stars. Pull out a bazooka. There goes a helicopter. Enter tank. Funny what literature and video games can do to you in the morning and famished!