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August 11, 2013

Nights sucked. In fact, Davey came to loathe the very likelihood of hotel bunking with its vagaries too numerous to mention.

When sleep eventually arrived, grotesque dreams followed suit, tumbling through his fog in a hodgepodge, and were clustered in that thin slice of grogginess just before pitchin' off the sheets.

In one such dream, a bad case of athlete's foot threatened Davey H's relative homeostasis, festering as he fussed with it.

Next in the dream-drama came a movie-like horror featuring a group of horseback-mounted Arab men clad in white tunics, sporting rifles and looking for something to shoot at.