It's late. Or early. Either way you march slowly down a choice-less path towards your inevitable decomposition. The Bullcast - no less pointless than everything else.
Your open your eyes to sunlight pouring through the blinds into your bedroom. The nightstand is covered in apricot schnapps, sudafed, and some sort of fish paralyzer. A tapir sits on a crushed velvet pillow gnawing on a DVD copy of Aladdin 2: The Return Of Jafar.
Still, you can't shake the feeling that something is wrong.
Did you wake up? Were you woken up?