Pork Chop World

You smell wrong. Not bad, necessarily. Wrong. Off, slightly. Like you're milk going sour, or butter gone a little rancid. I don't mean this to be insulting. I just...

Maybe it's me. My nose might be malfunctioning. People say I'm overly sensitive to smells.

"Smell that?"

"What?"

"Sort of sweet. Barbecue, maybe. A block away?"

"I don't smell anything."

That happens to me all the time. And turned out not to be barbecue, in that particular case. A daycare was on fire.

Anyway.

Off. Sour. Bad. Like you're rotting inside. Do you feel rotten? Is there something wrong with you? Maybe your gallbladder has gone funny. You know how sometimes internal organs just fail? When they do, they rot. I wonder why?

Have you been eating something you shouldn't? Maybe there's something rotten in your guts.

Maybe you've been thinking bad ideas? Have you had any weird dreams lately, about meat?

I dreamt last night I was in a city made out of pork chops. Were you there too? You kind of smell like pork chops. Maybe that's it. You and I in the land of pork chops. Only I was smart enough to dream about taking a shower before I woke up. That's why I don't smell and YOU do.

Dream hygiene. It's important. Think about it.

In the land of pork chops, I saw a baby made of pork chops playing with a puppy made of pork chops. And I thought to myself...

How can these people stand it? They're all made of pork chops! How do they stop from eating each other? Or even eating themselves? Why isn't this child EATING this puppy? Why isn't this puppy EATING the child? Or the floor? Or the building?

WHAT IS WRONG WITH THESE CREATURES? That's what I wanted to know.

Anyway. Stop crying. Stop crying or I'll hit you again. Look, if you want me to untie you, you're going to have to start answering my questions. I can't figure out these things on my own.

I promise to let you go. See? I promise. There. Now chill the fuck out and help me make sense of this pork chop world.