I Hate Making Decisions

It was really dark down there when I sank into my confusion. And things just got worse. Someone came up to me and held out their hands. Each hand had a pill in it. One was red and one was blue. He said if I take the red one, I'd find out how deep the rabbit hole goes. If I take the blue pill I will wake up and not remember what happened.

I don't know if the guy was Dr. Doo-Doo of the Pansi Files, or Dr. Schitz who the Cheesemeister knows in the Netherworld. And then it might have been Josephine S. Blick from the Ataraxia Foundation. I was in a too confused and blurred stupor to tell who it was.

And what made it all the more confusing was having to make a decision. I just find it so hard to make decisions! I hate to have to make a decision! I just kept reaching for one, then the other, then the other and couldn't decide which pill to take.

Well, whoever that guy was, he got pissed and shoved the red pill into my mouth and I swallowed it, then I regurgitated it and masticated it and swallowed it again, but then I upchucked it again and chewed it some more and swallowed it again. Then I did that again. But that is because I am a ruminant and we do that sort of thing.

Then I felt myself falling and falling. I was falling down a hole. I was about to find out how deep the rabbit hole was! Or was it a Dhole hole? Whatever it was, I was falling down it! I fell so far that I felt I would run into Deep Thought Eli down there!