Dreams are a funny thing.  It always start off tame and then spirals way out of control.  Like dreaming about simply walking down the street with your mom when you are 5 years old and then all of a sudden you are 18 and the hand you were holding is no long your mother's but a giant frog.  He looks at you with those big beady eyes tilts his head and "ribbet."  It was then that I woke up, opening one eye and then the other, ever so slowly.  I scan the room and see nothing out of the ordinary.  The TV is on and playing one of those annoying morning talk shows.  Everything is where it was the night before and Mason is in front of the refridgerater in nothing but a towel.  Ok that was new.  I'm getting used to him being in my apartment at odd times, but never in this state of undress.  I must admit, it wasn't a sucky thing to wake up to.

The towel hung loosely around his waste and I couldn't help but wonder what was underneath that towel.  It wouldn't take much for it to fall off and then I'd get to see Mason in all his undead glory.  The refridgerater closed with a loud "thump" which snapped me to attention.  Mason stood staring at me staring with a smile upon his lips.

"Like what you see?"  I must've turned 30 shades of red at him noticing what I was, well, noticing.  Could he read my thoughts? Not like they weren't etched all over my face.  I let my eyes rake one more times over that oh to perfect body before they met with his once more.

"I-I I don't dislike it."  I finally managed to stammer out.  Real cool George, like that wasn't the lamest thing ever.  Well at least he finds it amusing.  "So, what are you doing in my apartment?"

"My shower was broken and I figured you wouldn't mind if I used yours."  Me, mind?  Never, not when it was Mason.  If it was Rube on the other hand that I might have a problem with.