Written during an exercise in class. There are only two rules:
1. You have fifteen minutes to write a short prose text.
2. You are not allowed to stop writing.
Sunday morning. I hate Sunday mornings. What time is it anyway? Only 7 a.m. I could use some sleep. Twenty-hours without closing my eyes. That can’t be healthy. I hate sleep. Mostly because I never manage to fall asleep. And if I do, I dream a lot. Well, everyone dreams. But I have the incredibly bad luck of remembering my dreams. It would be great if they were enjoyable but my thoughts are far too twisted.
Last week I shot my ex-girlfriend. Last Friday I married her in some cheap Las Vegas-like church. Maybe it was Las Vegas. I don’t know. I’ve never been there. But it looked like the churches you would see in the movies. Didn’t Britney Spears get married in Las Vegas once? Great! Britney Spears. I hate her. Now I can’t go to sleep, I’ll probably have some weird dream of drowning her in her pool. And then I’d swim in the pool myself without even thinking about what I’ve done. I always wanted a pool. I didn’t go swimming in ages. I think the last time I went was five years ago. Those were the days! The summer holidays just before I switched high schools. Oh, did I have strange dreams back then! But none was as weird as what really happened in that school. How many people drink Scotch in class and cook lunch during the last class on mornings? It might not be extraordinary, but it was to me. Nothing like that could’ve happened at the private school where I went to before. I’m glad I left that school. That’s probably the reason why I hate churches so much. Praying every morning. Who wouldn’t go crazy? Wait. I shot my ex-girlfriend. We married in an ugly church. That’s it! I finally get the meaning of those dreams!
Maybe I’m just really tired and my mind gives me that explanation only so I go to sleep. What time is it anyway? 7.15 a.m.