You fall asleep peacefully tonight, comfortable for once, thankfully seeing a wolf hanging from the gallows. In your dreams you are in the pathology lab doing a necropsy. You suspect your "patient" has died of heart trouble, so you decide to cut open the heart. You get your banana (it is a dream after all) and start cutting open the body. You get a pair of barbecue tongs to cut through the ribs, and then remove the heart with a huge pair of chopsticks and put it on a Ouija board. Suddenly the heart starts spelling something out. You watch spellbound as the heart starts spelling... .S....A.....V.......E.......M........E..... over and over again.
You reach into your draw full of assorted instruments you use, and pull out a dentist's mirror, stab the heart, and out pops seven living tumors. They aren't normal tumors, but tumors that walk and talk.
You KNOW you have to identify these tumors... your life may depend on it.
You consult the handy tumor grading chart hanging on the wall.
The first tumor looks completely healthy, and has all sorts of ink marks on it. You think it is quite good looking. You consult the chart and it is a wTf.1 tumor. You put that one gently aside. You might want to transplant that one as it is so wonderful in your eyes.
You examine the next tumor, and it is completely nasty looking. Oozing blood, and pus, and all sorts of grotesquities. You can't even stand to look at it. You just want to smash it up in little pieces, and then burn it, and then bury the ashes deep, deep in a hole. You try not to inhale as you check the chart and see it is a JoJoJobox tumor, a nasty malignancy if you have ever seen one. . You quickly put it in the biowaste container and light some incense.
You pick a much plumpier tumor next. It seems a little old and wrinkly, but still pink and healthy. You consult your chart it is an SoVVoS tumor. Benign.
There are 3 tumors left, and they are kind of all messed up together. It is hard to tell which one is the source of all the detritus, and nasty materials. You can't quite separate them but one is black and white, one of them seems to have a grumpy face on, and one of them just seems to be spouting garbage like a little geyser. You ID them as the dVMd-:< tumor, the PANDAffm tumor, and the MJMJMJMJMJ tumor.
You hold up the mass of 3 tumors and examine it every which way you can. You try poking it with a pencil, squishing it with a fly swatter, batting it with a hockey stick, and even cooking it in the microwave, but you still can't figure it out.
Finally, you get a phone call...apparently some hunk from the exotics department has invited you to take his family's G-V to Paris and have dinner on the Seine. Screw this you think. You take the whole mass of 3 tumors, stick it in the garbage disposal in the sink and grind it to death.
You throw your gloves in the sink, rip off your gown, and get ready to get down (or go down, it is hard to tell).
As you are walking out of the lab in the dream, you remember thinking, if only a 3-way death was as easy as a 3-way in life, all your problems would be solved.
You move on to new dreams, and when you get up in the morning, you have a strange fascination with your garbage disposal. You keep on stuffing objects in there and grinding them away compulsively. It is going to be a loooong day.