Full of Wonder

It was nearly dawn. I was up doing coke and listening to Sheryl Crow on repeat. (no bender is complete without the soothing sounds of Sheryl Crow - with her alt-country sensibilities blaring endlessly in the background.) The black skinny tie loosened around my neck was peppered with white Colombian dust flakes. I reached for the box of Jujyfruits that had been left on the table by one of my sons.
'How do these kids eat this shit?' I thought to myself as I gnawed into a black liquorice gem.
The television was still on. With bloodshot eyes I watched as a team of pastry chefs were teaching the audience how to bake long breads.
I wondered what it would feel like to be beaten to death by a mob wielding those Frenchy baguettes. At first the blows might be painful, but as the bread softened and became saturated with my blood it might feel more like a soggy pillow fight. Ultimately tranquil.