Alarm Clocks Are For Losers

I'm a little tired today. I've noticed that when you don't sleep for a while, you start seeing things - like beds, and pillows, and beds with pillows in them. Then you see your clock telling you it's the wrong time (sometimes you can really HEAR it telling you, if you stay up long enough!), then you see the clock on the floor broken. It serves it right for telling you the wrong time. That's right, go back to bed, little one, the mean clock doesn't REALLY have psychokinetic powers. Then you see people yelling at you that you slept on their floor and left a big puddle of drool on the floor. You try to blame the pink squirrels that are swooping down from the ceiling, but they just keep hitting you with their fists and potato peelers. They hurt. You see more things. You see blood, blood everywhere, and so many people have papercuts, and you see a pice of paper in your hand. You see it has "Don't forget to pick up canned peaches" written on it. And now more people are yelling at you, but you tell them it was Horace or Chimba (yeah - we'll get to Chimba later, I promise) but to no avail. You see gravity reverse itself, and you end up on the ceiling. You see a bed on the ceiling. You see pillows. You see an unusually hairy Keanu Reeves near the bed, but you don't care. Chimba will take care of him. You see the insides of your eyelids again, and then more darkness, then maybe some crocodiles in tutus, then darkness again. That's what you see when you stay up too late. That and toasters. Yummy, yummy toasters.