Just a short story I wrote for someone with the blues:

Jimmy Fran likes two things: Tylenol PM and acid. He likes Tylenol PM so that when his acid high wears off he can take it and just sleep until the morning, at which point he takes more acid. He’s been living this vicious circle now ever since his girlfriend left him three days ago, resulting in total loss of contact with himself.

Every night he has the same dream, in which he’s a lion tamer, y’know, like in the circus, only instead of having a chair and a whip he has a little girl who keeps trying to steal his head. Had he not fried his mind he might have realized what it meant in the morning, might have been able to pull himself from the loop in order so that he might continue living as a social invalid, fall in love with some nurse in a psycho ward somewhere; the kind of place they send war veterans when no one wants to look at them anymore.

But Jimmy’s tired, and needs his sleep.