It’s a beautiful day but there is a blanket of low-hanging cumulus clouds in the sky. Through a sizeable opening in the cloud cover, thousands of differently shaped red, white and blue balloons float by. Occasionally one falls at my feet and I kick it back into the ballonic jet stream.
A man about town named Sean Miller¹ had died recently, and I run into Kendrick Lamar, who asks if I knew him. I lie and say, “A little bit. I’ve been drinking with him a few times.” Kendrick goes, “That’s enough to know someone though.” I suppose he’s right.
A cop fines us each $500 for walking too close to the train tracks. I look around and there’s no sign, but the cop won’t listen to a defence.
I break into David Cross’s house to tell him and Bob Odenkirk to let Trey Parker know about what’s going on with the ticket so he can fix it. Once I’m satisfied it will be taken care of, I go outside, where I’m immediately shot at. Kendrick warned me this would happen, but as I protest to him, “What was I supposed to do? Let it all go down?”
[Author’s note: This all takes place in an alternate version of downtown St. John’s that appears in some of my dreams.]
¹ [Editor’s note: There is no actual Sean Miller. But we all know at least one of him.]