Last night I had another bad dream. I know that a certain small percentage of dreams will be bad and that the brain uses locations, characters and storylines from its own past experience to generate the nasty scenario, which is why in the past I've been chased by Terminators.
This one was much worse. I fell into the void beneath the Minecraft world and landed in lava which killed me. Then I respawned in the same place and fell to my death once more. This happened a few times until I'd run out of lives, at which point I was told that I was dead forever and I'd never be allowed onto Minecraft again, whether on PC, X-Box or tablet. It struck terror into my very being, for without the Craft, I am naught.
Anyway, I went to Wednesday Park and met LittleMax and Owen and our 2 new footballing friends and we did Naked Baby which is exactly like Swing-Kickball but the thrower stuffs the ball up his shirt, gives birth to it, and then throws it for us to kick. No, we didn't find it macabre, and no, we don't want to kill babies.
But after an hour of fresh air (and very little Vitamin D), Owen the Destroyer kicked the ball point blank right into my ribcage just when I was doing my lame goose impression and it hurt so much I went home, where Jof rubbed my intercostals better and the man came to install a new TV box although I still have to enter a PIN every time I want to watch a decent film.
Jof sneakily went to Meet-the-Teacher night. She was told my spelling could do with some improvement, so during supper, I had to pass a spelling test in order to access my chocolate sundae dessert! The ignominy! Don't I have vassals for these menial tasks?
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