Late last night, some where between the retched smell of warm catch-up and R.E.M. sleep, I unconsciously decided to take on fat from a spiritual front. Tapping the other 90% of my unused temporal power for what was to be a savage fight. I take my lucid dreams very serious – some of my most prolific concepts spawned while night kaleidoscoping. It was so vivid; sights exact, smells pungent, and the touch of battle so near. I’m giving these fat cells a once over, tearing through them with the ease of a hot knife through butter. Then things got weird about 30 past the cows coming home.
All of a sudden the battle turned horribly wrong, they turned the hoses on my forces and unleashed a massive belly button assault on the metabolic strong hold. Next thing I know the thunder of cannon shots are coming all over… Nothing like cowards to bring artillery to a knife fight. Well it was good fight, so full retreat until tomorrow night. But no, they were still coming strong, and somewhere in the mix those thugs brought in non-lethal Israeli sound devise. What the heck, it sounds just like my alarm.
It was a well planned counter offensive put on by the thugs, using the alarm clock tactic. To my surprise they were able to co-op my one year old son into bringing the heavy thunder with rabbit heel kicks to my kidneys and then sacrificing his 4am bottle for a strategic placement just north of my skivvies.
Point, fat cells.
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