Fun On the Moon

          I had a dreadful nightmare that lasted all of 45 seconds. Three men were driving down a country road in a small car with "The Moon", an extremely cheery tune from the DuckTales NES game, on blast. Abruptly, a sustained, shrieking sound pierced my brain like a bolt of lightning, two of the men's heads exploded, and they keeled over dead. The third sort of burst at chest level and slid down the inside of the car, leaving a long, Technicolor red smear. All the while, this awful droning noise was buzzing so loud that my head felt like it was going to blow. The garishly happy song in the background made the dream's sudden goriness all the more shocking. I woke up disturbed and contemplated this dream for a few minutes before drifting back into sleep. Another nightmare followed, though this one was of a more banal type. I was taking a bus to a new apartment somewhere out in the sticks, and it was the dead of night. The bus moved faster and faster until the woods were flying by in a blur, we hit a sharp turn and I was thrown from a window. The bus rapidly disappeared into the darkness, and I was lost, alone, and the middle of nowhere. It was more frustrating than frightening, at any rate.
          At work, one of our characteristically angry clients has an amusing answering machine message; in a very cutting tone, she says, "According to federal law, all calls on this line may be monitored." I made another trip to the IRS to double-check that we're taking the right steps to rectify our tax problem. The same ultra-low-key agent dealt with me again, and was once again very vague as to the process. Also, my shoes set off the metal detector -- fun times. In the afternoon, I met another client who calls frequently: a self-deprecating, talkative gentleman named Jim who uncannily resembles John Candy. In between tapping out a bar complaint on the typewriter and running papers back and forth, I found time to point out something relevant to the case which Jeremy had missed and felt pretty smart. I used the rest of my shift to get some serious copying in on Misery's entire file (hint: it's huge), which we have to deliver to the Board of Bar Overseers. My productivity for today was about 300% that of the rest of the week, which seems to be a common theme. I went over to Iris's place after work, where we watched a typically mind-melting Twilight Zone episode called "The Four of Us Are Dying" about a shapeshifter. Later, Alaric and I were intoxicated with various substances and took a walk to the reflecting pool, where we shared a cigar and reflected (appropriately.)
          Quotes of the day:
"If it's white and processed, I'll eat it." - me
"It's like sex is to masturbation." - The Delivery Man, re: playing TF2 in offline mode
"4 a.m.: two kids smoking a stogie at the Reflecting Pool." - Alaric, on why we might seem suspicious
"If you were a superhero and your name was Dick Johnson, your enemies would know fear." - me