At Least There Was Ice Cream

I had a dream last night that Satan took over the world (after doing battle with Buffy Summers and Willow Rosenberg, to which they fled to hopefully regroup and return to Save The World another day) and he opened up his own night club. I remember you had to buy tickets to get in from an ice cream shop outside the venue, like at a carnival where you also had to buy tickets for rides and games and whatever the night club had to offer. And I remember wandering around the club on opening night with a bunch of people I knew, mostly folks I work with (I especially remember Brent being there, running around in the crowds excitedly with an ice cream cone) and all I can recall how how pretentiously gothic it all looked, like something some 15-year-old My Chemical Romance fan who shopped at Hot Topic would do up his bedroom. And Satan himself looked like Anton LeVay, which was also pretty predictable in and of itself. Lots of long candles and bats and red wallpaper and black-light pictures from the back room at Spencer's Gifts. All I can remember thinking was, "Man, Satan's night club is... actually kinda lame."

No more going to bed on Tussinex after tonight.