Last night, I dreamed that I was in an adult version of The Hunger Games.
But instead of having a lottery and making a big deal out of it, they just secretly took over an adults-only beach resort. Apparently, the contract we signed included something along the lines of, "We reserve the right to kill your ass with collapsing grottos and exploding speedboats."
That's why you always read the fine print, guys.
The dream lasted all. Night. Long.
There’s just nothing like getting on a bus to your car and discovering that fembots designed to look like the Shirelles have been planted to kill you with microphones that are actually maces.