Aw Man!

So I had this thought…
I’m going to wake up tomorrow and all of this will have been a dream. This whole existence that seemed so real; my life, my family, my friends, the cars, the space flights, computers, Bugs Bunny, Nietzsche, all of it a drunken-dream.
Then I’ll sit up and rub my eyes awake to the reality of my real life as a 68-year-old pig farmer somewhere in the hills of Alabama; living alone in a rusty, dilapidated, one-room shack and the year is 1912.
I’ll shove the flea-bitten-hound off the cot, slowly stand up, spit on the dirt floor, and vow to never, ever drink so much of my own moonshine again before I go to bed.

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