It was dark. I went to a party kind of thing. More like an orgy. So this one guy, he could have been, oh I don't know, 50-something was throwing the party thing. He kind of looked like Bernard Hill. So we all drink and have a great time and all. I end up on the floor with this guy, we're, you know, doing it. So everyone's around doing it and all, then the sun rises, and this guy dies on me, just dies. So I freak out and start yelling and screaming. Then his son comes home and is like "WTF HAPPENED TO MY HOUSE?? WTF HAPPENED TO MY DAD?!!!!!!!" And Bernie’'s laying there on the floor and I have like a sheet over me. So the son calls the cops and I'm like "I swear, I didn't kill him" and the son's like "YEAH RIGHT, BITCH". So I look over at the Bernard guy and there's blood all over the place. Then this cop lady comes and is like "Well we need to run some tests" so she does and she comes back and is like "Son, you owe this lady an apology" so he apologizes. It's as though the guy took too many *cough* pills, and that's how he died. So I figure I ought to go on home, so I do. And I live in this weird apartment, and I walk in at like 6 in the morning and my roommate, who just happens to be Rosario Dawson has left a note on the coffee table that says something and a donut. So I eat the donut. And then I woke up.