Singapore Slings were slid onto the table.

Singapore Slings were slid onto the table. Thirty of them. Delilah stared at them. Sure she was preggers but she could have one last drunk, so she

shape shifted into Freddy Kroeger. I tried to tell her this might not be good for the baby, but Freddy drank 10 of the slings and then entered my dreams

through my left ear. I don't like it when people enter my dreams. I like to control my dreams and shape them myself, but Freddy didn't care. In this dream, he cried

enough to cause a proverbial waterfall. The constant thrashing of the harsh waves pushed me further and further into the abyss. With all hope lost of escaping this nightmare,

I went to my happy place. Marshmallow cinder blocks were my bulwark. Red licorice vines of razorwire encirciled the moat of bubbling hot taffy. Killer teddy bears roamed

the earth. At the center of it was my candy cane keep, where I presided with dark delicious power. I snapped out of my reverie just in time to see the truck

careen down a hill coated in K-Y Jelly. Before it smashed into a wall of dildos, a sharply dressed man with a rocket pistol and 409 jumped out of the back. It was Michael Scarn.

I wasn't particularly worried, but then again he was somewhat unpredictable and I could only pray he would take pity on my foolish exploits. If only I had observed the sign I may

had a chance to get out of this situation. The FBI agent looked deeper into my eyes and say "Boy we need to solve this problem here, and we need to do it now!".

In that moment I realized there was no point pretending anymore, he would find out eventually. I handed myself over. Now, sitting in my cell and writing this diary, I understand.