Thursday, October 18, 2012

Dreams. I have dreams.Dreams in which I dress the mafia in sharp looking t-shirts.

Last night I dreamt that I was a t-shirt salesman who specialized in sales to criminals and the mafia. They loved my t-shirts. They loved them so much I could say anything I wanted to them and not be in any trouble, because then who would make their t-shirts? I tailored the t-shirts precisely to whomever ordered them and these guys, they were ordering a lot of shirts.

The only thing is, they didn't like to pay me in cash, they usually paid me in bricks of cocaine. My shirts cost one brick of cocaine per shirt, which might sound expensive to you, but these were awesome shirts.

Anyway, this one mob boss wanted me to make him some shirts and he would pay me later and I said, "Hey, you think I'm going to just give you shirts? You're going to stiff me." He said he wouldn't do that but he didn't have two bricks of cocaine with him. I told him no cocaine meant no shirt, no service. Boy, was he mad.

Then the alarm went off.

In retrospect, getting paid in bricks of cocaine seems like it would have a lot of downsides.

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