Nightmares of whirlybirds and Chorlie Brown [Open]
Sweet Bro used to watch TV when he was young, many years ago. As a kid, his mama and papa would make him sit in front of the TV and get his brain fed with cartoons while his body was fed with cereals.
And last night, after that endless Monday, he was thinking about it. Sweet Bro liked Charlie Brown much, especially when the bald kid couldn’t hit the ball and he would almost break his back, neck or head after falling very hard.
With all these thoughts on mind, Sweet Bro went to sleep. At first he had nice dreams, food and sports. But then he was in the sports, inside them. Was that possible? He didn’t know, and he didn’t mind either.
After playing sports for a while, it was his turn to be the star, to be famous, to make a score and be praised and loved. He started to run towards a smiling Hella Jeff, who held the ball as if it was the funniest thing in the world… it scared Sweet Bro a little.
Then the tragedy happened: when Sweet Bro was about to kick the ball, Hella Jeff smiled even more and moved it. Sweet Bro’s inertia pushed him to the sky, defying the most solid law ever, other than the law regarding taxes: the law of gravity.
It was impossible, obviously, but it was a dream so it happened anyway. Everything could happen in a dream. As he flew more and more and almost touched the stars, a helicopter appeared… and it killed Sweet Bro with a PHHPPPBBBing noise…
Then Sweet Bro woke up and he realized he was in a bench. For some reason it was midday already and he didn’t sleep on his bed. After a minute of watching the people pass, confused, he just opened his mouth and tried to say something…
“Uh… hi”, was the only thing he could say to somewhere in front of him. Someone who he couldn’t recognize, since he was still half blind because the sun was really bright.
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