That cloud stomps around my house, does whatever it pleases.

Something bit me last night. Well, more than likely I bit myself. But still, I like to believe that it was something else. That something crawled into my mouth and bit the shit out of my tongue. Or stung it. Like a scorpion. Yeah, that’s it. If I lived in Texas, I’d totally believe a scorpion crawled into my open mouth while I slept and stung me with its curled electric tail.

Or better yet, aliens came into my room and implanted some sort of alien tracking device into my tongue. They do that now—plant them in the tongue so that they can not only track our movements and daily physical habits, but also analyze what we eat and drink. It’s fascinating, really. Though I’d hate to think that anyone, from this planet or beyond, should have that much insight into what I do with my tongue.

Or maybe this all just means I’m suppressing memories of childhood molestation, which are beginning to surface and will soon come crashing through the barrier of my subconscious and back into my waking life. (Yeah, I recently saw Mysterious Skin.) Or maybe it means I’m poised to become a violently self-destructive male hustler only to be beat within an inch of my life in the bathtub of an especially violent trick.

Or maybe I just bit myself in my sleep last night.