Bloom County by Berkeley Breathed for December 19, 2023

Better save all that moisture, Opus. No thpppting.

“No, dear. This is the dream. You’re still in the cell.”

Life…

Pither:(voice over) As I lay down to the sound of the Russian gentlemen practising their shooting, I realised I was in a bit of a pickle. My heart sank as I realised I should never see the Okehampton by-pass again…

Mix to Pither’s sleeping face, waking up, shaking himself in disbelief at finding himself in a beautiful garden, with the sun shining, the birds singing. He is in a deckchair, and his mother, having poured him a jug of iced fruit juice, is gently nudging Pither to wake him.

Mother:Come on, dear. Wake up dear.

Pither:Mother!

Mother:Come on dear.

Pither:So, it was all a dream.

Mother:No dear, this is the dream, you’re still in the cell.

(Monty Python’s Flying Circus, “The Cycling Tour”)

I’m impressed that Opus still has enough spit left to THPPPT.

Next he hallucinates a pay raise while Berk replaces him with a sock puppet.

You just can’t trust a dream! Darn!

Second that THPPPT from you Opus.

That’s what happens when you don’t have a script.