"So I woke up in hell the other day,"
Nah - can that crap. Utterly trite. All the devils will walk right out. But then, they're only ever there for the second act, anyway. Plus, it's been years since I did stand-up. I don't even have a show booked. Right? ...Right? Shit. Maybe I do. Probably too late to cancel.
Okay. Which damp-faced dumbfuck had the bright idea for me to go to hell? Me? My agent? Susan? What a fiasco. Can't remember why I came. Must have been a gig, right? Hope it went well. Who even hires a singer out there? Wait, was it the water guys? Was that the act? Shit. They stiffed me.
I'd kill my agent, but if I know me, and I do, I already did. Hopefully, he suffered. I should be so lucky.
Oh well. Honestly? Not the worst job I've had. Even met some fans - eh, who am I kidding? They never heard of me. To spare my own ego, I'm gonna assume that's because they've been too busy with this seriously shady business. I mean, I know shady business, and this business is shadier than my taint. You don't stand under shade this shady, understand? Liable to get sat on.
Too late, though - think I'm an accomplice now. Best to brace for impact, hope for soft cheeks. Started having weird dreams, which turned out to not be dreams. First I thought one of my new friends slipped me something Bytopic. Still not sure they didn't. None of it makes any sense. For example: That tongue thing? Doesn't make any sense. All those bodies? Don't make any sense. You see where I'm going with this? Every time I try to describe what just happened, I realize what I'm about to say sounds fucking stupid, so I give up.
Enough. Gonna sleep now. Look for a spellweaver masseuse in the morning.
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