It’s hot, I’m heavy and so I slept more or less all weekend. On Saturday afternoon I had a weird, gross dream. They’d changed the zoning laws for Bluegum Crescent, where I grew up, so that there was a newsagent selling sweets – lollies – candies – on the corner. I tried to buy milk bottles and kool mints, but the owner said they’d rotted, and sent me away with this nasty little strawberry cake.

I stuffed it in my mouth but it was disgusting, and I had to spit it out. When I woke up I was still spitting. There was saliva running down my chin and a puddle of drool on the pillow.

What? I told you it was gross.

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