JEFF: Let me ask you something, Lester. There is a BEAST that visits me in the darkest part of my dreams.
She lurks at the corners of vision, always circling, always prowling. She does not let herself be seen.
She FOLLOWS me.
JEFF: I might be dreaming of home, or of loves long lost, or of chocolate or ice cream or kangaroos or ANYTHING--and she is always there, and the dream is always from that point TAINTED.
The ice cream turns to soot, or my old bedroom to a FURNACE...
Everything takes on a MISERABLE shape as the shadow of the beast passes over.
And then she HOWLS as I kick in my bed.
JEFF: If only I could speak the NAME of the beast, I might REBUKE her. But its alien syllables slither past my tongue like a soapy worm.
Yet I TRY--Oh, I WAKE myself with the SCREECHING.
LESTER: So what's the question?
JEFF: Why do I only seem to attract WEIRD chicks?
{{Header: shout out WONDERMARK.COM}}
{{Alt-text: She wants to keep her last name after we get married; I want freedom from this everlasting torment. All good relationships are built on compromise.}}