Alphabet Soup

I awoke in my bed, sweat covering my entire body, my entire bed, and most of the other objects in my room. "Goodness, I must have had quite an alarming dream," I said, forgetting that my roommate, a water buffalo, was probably the source of the perspiration (big word!)

I sat down to my morning coffee while the water buffalo pooped on the carpet and snorted. "What class do you have today?" I asked, as I injected the coffee into my veins with a needle (simply drinking it didn't get me enough of a buzz anymore.)

The buffalo snorted. He was the only animal taking courses at the college. The college's policy required that it not discriminate on the basis of species. He spent most of his time, however, roaming around campus and eating the grass.

Nine years later, I bought a can of alphabet soup. I was still living on the college campus, in secret. The buffalo had become a world renowned lawyer. I bought a can of alphabet soup, though I'm still not quite sure how.

I write on the walls a lot these days. There's less sweat now.

I sometimes buy things.

I sometimes smear my earwax on bits of paper, then leave them lying around.

I live in a basement of a college sorority campus please. Very few people know of my existence. I'm a pig, incidentally. I have a fungal infection.