I had a dream that Chuck and some dumbass blew up a perfectly good propane tank and started getting little white blisters all over their bodies. So they made me drive them around on my four-wheeler...and then we went in this house that we thought was a coffee shop so Chuck could use the phone to call his parents to have them send him some stamps. The residents of the house turned out to be eerily accomodating to their intruders (us). They let him use the phone, the fax, the computer, the electric shaver, and the lady of the house. I got bored and left but I couldn't find my four-wheeler no matter how much I trudged through the swampy bog.
In other news, I got intoxicated last night and saw a few friendly faces. Whether they were sincere in their friendliness, I'll never know.
A couple of surprises:
Help Us, Save Us, Take Us Away sounds really good at high volumes.