I went to the market that they have in the car park behind the high street every thursday and there was a stall there selling cups of piss. I said to the woman running the stall, “Is that really piss?” and she said, “Yes, lovely warm piss. Only £3 a glass,” and I said, “But why would I want to drink a cup of piss?” and she said, “It’s warm piss,” and I said, “I don’t know what difference that makes,” and she said, or sort of sung, “It will grant you your wish / this cup of warm piss,” and I said, “what sort of wish” and she said, “the wish for piss” and I said, “that’s not a wish,” and she bent down and picked up one of the cups and held it out towards me and said, “try it it’s free” and I said, “I thought you said it cost £3,” and she said “this is a trial offer” and I said, “I better still get my wish” and she winked at me and said “the wish for piss” again and I shrugged and closed my eyes and grimaced pre-emptively and downed that cup of piss and wiped my lips clean with the back of my arm and opened my eyes and looked down at the cups of piss and I said “thank you” and she nodded and I said “have a nice day” and she said “and you” and I went back into town and I decided right then or at least by the end of the day that I’d go to the market next week and get another cup assuming the stall’s back again and if she hasn’t sold out by the time I get there
__________
Notes:
1. Written on June 30th, 2016
2. And basically a direct transcript of a dream I’d had that morning/the previous night