Preservation Fluid

I see a TV show about a killer who pours decomposition fluid on his corpses. Then I am running through my house, pouring decomposition fluid on my corpses. They are stapled to the floor. Some are still alive. – What are you doing? one screams. A bald man. – It’s preservation fluid, I say, almost crying. I step over him, drenching his face. Then I see my old calico cat. She is staring at me, judging me. I flick some fluid at her. I feel terrible, grab her and begin to wash her off frantically in an old spaghetti pot. Suddenly I am outside, and a judge in an orange toga who is called Hercules asks me what I have done. I tell him I am sorry, that I thought it was preservation fluid. He laughs, and then tells me to release my imagination. I feel really good and suddenly everyone around me is inspired. – Wait a second, a man shouts. If George is innocent how did I get all these scars? But no one can hear him; we are all runng around flapping our arms like birds.