I am on the lower lake of okauchee, a cold 7.5 ounce can of pepsi in my hand. Me and Kanye West are sitting in the warm summer rain, two plates of scrambled eggs and toast with jelly between us. We watch Martin Luther King Jr reel in a huge Mahi Mahi as Jay Z sings “if Jesus paying LeBron I’m paying Dwayne Wade in the background. I look over and Kanye has taken on his Centaur form, the Air Jordan Zion 1s on his feet and 9,422,604.69 hair follicles coating his upper half. We speak of how he met Ryan Gosling, from Barbie, in the back room of a tavern in Mexico City. I told him about how I want to be an auto engineer, so I could connect with the hot pink victory I associate with cars. It’s time to depart, I say I love him more and he says “that’s cap” as he walks back to his spaceship.