Last Night

I am grinning, teeth terrifying the young children who fill the building. My dentist lectures me. Educates me about everything. The walls are covered in certificates. I read his credentials. He is very well qualified. The chair reclines, rises, rotates. A carousel. There is a knock on the door. Carollers. Carroll, the receptionist, takes down their information. Books them each an appointment. Points to the door. They stampede through the hallways. The building vibrates. My phone vibrates. 27 missed calls. Windows shatter. Glass rains down upon passing pedestrians. Cars crash and I applaud loudly. Music plays in surround sound, drowning out the chaos. Then suddenly our time is up. The music stops and giant bells clang. I giggle my way through the carnage. Camera crews’ tug at cables tangled in rubble which fray and snap. I stop at a massage parlour for a rub down. I partake in hallucinogenic drugs. I don’t pay. The sky clouds over and over. Everyone takes shelter under the bridge. Waterfalls cage us in. Bodies press together and diseases spread. Snot crust clogs everyone’s throats. Children tap-dance toward us, avoiding cracks on the concrete. It begins to begin to rain. We look upward, opening our mouths wide, welcoming the wet spray on our faces. We dance up on each other, rubbing and grinding. We piss into the gutters until the sewers flood gold. I climb up a fire escape. I keep climbing through a gap in the clouds. There is a basketball court on the roof of the building. The building is a courthouse. I scrimmage with the judges. They object to all of my foul calls. “Man up.” They play a zone defence.