So I woke up and realized that the planet known as Zexon is still undiscovered and I hate the pickles in the fridge because of that reason. So I got up. Went to the fridge. Opened the fridge. Then shut the fridge. I then decided I was hungry. Then I opened the fridge. Stared in the fridge. Shut the fridge. Went to the stove. Turned on the stove. Fed the cat some of my hand. Went to work. Then I worked. Then I had break. I ate the cat. Then I went home. Realized I still had work. Went to the moon. Got some cheese. Threw the cheese at a hobo. Killed the rat in my salad. Threw the rat away. Killed the salad. Threw the salad at the hobo (he looked hungry). Went to store. Forgot what I needed. Went back home. Went to bed. The salad asked if I needed a bedtime story. I said "No thank you, the cat already mowed the lawn. But thank you Robert." Then I went to sleep. I then dreamed about the day and how good those pickles tasted when I sat on a cupcake and dreamed of eating my sandwich that was really a donkey that came from outer space that has no real meaning to his resistance other than the need to kill the grthat fell out of his bucket and decided to to clean up the cheese that was on the ceiling that was left by his great grandmother that was never born in Japan.