“ONE MORE! ONE MORE! ONE MORE!”
This crowd is wild like an all-day Nat Geo marathon.
Time to up my game.
My arm extends toward the prized destination as if on its own accord. Some may call this destiny.
I call it another day on the job.
As my expertly poised limb arcs high further toward its target, I feel the irrevocable power of my own greatness coursing through every fiber of my being.
I look around, savoring these last minutes. Not much longer now until I’ll be walking among stars, finally one of them.
Is this what dreams are made of, Hilary Duff? For approximately two seconds I wish that I was clad in skin-tight head-to-toe silver sparkles, but the desire dies quicker than Carrie Bradshaw’s heart rate upon entering Saks Fifth Avenue.
The moment has arrived.
As I hover over my goal, nay my prey, I feel like I’m home.
My arm swoops down.
And I hit the snooze button once more.
The crowd (blankets and my cat) loses it.