Dead Man on Dunbury

This morning, at about 2:35 a.m., I was sitting on my bed, Indian-style, watching my fingers shake, being spoken at by my roommate, who stood in my doorway, trying to explain why it was OK for him to play his band's CD full blast to a lure a new one-night-stand, that it really was an ulterior motive to get me out of my wallflower-shell, despite no invite having come my way from him in months, and despite it being the first time that night we'd seen each other. In reply, I finally mustered to mutter with utter conviction: "I'm going to stab you in your sleep."