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I Had A Dream About Kate Middleton

I found myself in a large, candlelit chamber, without doors, without windows, and I did not know how I got there.

There was a strange altar in the middle, and on it a naked woman, twitching and groaning; and before her a short man in a crimson robe, watchful and silent.

The woman was Kate Middleton; the man, Gilbert Gottfried, the late comedian.

A severe anxiety engulfed me as I approached the altar.

Kate Middleton was pale and frail. She seemed to be in excruciating pain.  

— What’s wrong with her? I enquired.

— She’s dying from the AIDS virus, Gilbert Gottfried sullenly answered, without looking at me.

There was a long pause.

I wanted to say something but words would not come out. All I could do was stare… and pray.

I grabbed her hand. It was sweaty and cold.

— She suffered enough! the funny man suddenly croaked.

Then, in a flash, he produced a knife and slit her throat.

Kate Middleton was gone, and Gilbert Gottfried’s hideous laugh echoed morbidly through the chamber.

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