Like one day John wakes up in a bed, which isn't creaky, with a good mattress and clean sheets and the most beautiful blond he's ever met is brewing coffee on the stove and turns and grins at him, all apple cheeked, soft lit and romantic.
He wakes up in the Stalag wet eyed from dreaming that day, while his real life is watching Gale get whittled down to gristle.





















