[SF80s, Legend, Award Winner. Enough Said.]
I had a nightmare, a flashback to last year’s fiasco. The gung-ho Sylvan, vikingesque spirit in the morning devolved into utter agony and sunken morale by nightfall. We struck a contingency plan, but it relied on rest and strategy.
Sleep remained elusive as a will-o’-the-wisp; I only managed to dominate three or four “Z’s”. After the glorified nap, energy trickled in adequately, a lazy aqueduct flowing past bodies, the night’s leftover affiliates. A hot roll of hearty spray reset my decay. By three-o-morning I stood alert inside sodden jeans, a Sylvan tee, neon-green Newport cap, rolled-sleeved collared shirt, everyday shoes, Miramonte hoodie, gardening gloves (lesson learned) and a considerable amount of anxiety. The rest of SylvanHouse floated lazily in stasis.
Last night, I participated in Competitive Erotic Fan Fiction, a monthly LA show that made its San Francisco debut last night. The competition is split into two parts: in the first, contestants read prepared pieces of erotic fan fiction (topics last night included Animaniacs, Angry Birds, and the sitcom Family Matters). Before they read, contestants from the second round draw topics from a bag, and write their own pieces while the prepared works are read. Second-round topics included Watership Down, Carl Sagan’s Cosmos, and X-Men. I was fortunate enough to draw Driving Miss Daisy as my topic, and I’ve included my piece after the jump.
WARNING: Not Safe For Work. Not safe for anywhere.