It never ends. Day after day I find myself

It never ends. Day after day I find myself wondering why I don't blow this popsicle stand and got to a place where things would be different, where I could
live within a room filled with unicorns and hanging pictures of ponies.
The unicorns and ponies would be wearing tiny hats that denoted their blood types. Such a blood farm would remove much of the grief I get from feeding on humans. Cute vessels of
bland blood. Beauty is skin deep when you feast on blood. Humans are god ugly but their blood is the cognac of body fluids. Everything else is like Sunny D. But humans fought
tirelessly for the right to party. Their deities, the Beastie Boys, would have approved of the ferocity with which every attack on their drinking and banging rights were met.
They fought and fought. They drank, and drank more.
This continued until they were so filled with water, they could only slosh about and splash. Punches were pillowed in flesh ballooned with water.
"Does anyone have a diuretic?" someone yelled. I did but couldn't reach my pocket over my newly distended stomach. The waterlogged body wasn't really the worst part, it was
the screaming that really got to me. I f only I could reach the pills, then we would all be more comfortable. I stretched a little more, but
paid little attention to my seat... Before I knew it, my chair toppled over the abyss, dropping me into the chasm! I awoke in a grassy field. I wouldn't be doing THAT ever again.

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