Remember how I told you that I was sick? Well, I don’t know if this is symptom or cause, but I had a disturbing dream a few nights ago. Let me tell you about it.
I was at a chain bookstore. It was about closing time. Standing in the doorway, looking lost, were Andy Griffith and his wife, and Don Knotts and his wife. I approached them to say how much I had enjoyed “The Andy Griffith Show” when I was a kid. Andy graciously thanked me, and said that they were bigger than Jesus back then.
I smiled weakly, and asked them if I could be of any assistance. Andy indicated that their car never showed up, and asked if I could give them a ride to their hotel. I said sure, but that we’d have to walk to my apartment and get my car keys first, but it would only take a minute, since I lived right next door.
It turned out that my apartment was underneath The Gap, which had apparently been built right over me, since I had refused to sell or something. (It was kind of like a certain Bugs Bunny cartoon, now that I think of it.)
We went down the trap door and into the dank hole which was my apartment, and I realized that Andy, Don, and wives had been replaced by Rush Limbaugh and a blonde hooker. I was less enthusiastic about providing assistance, but continued to look for my car keys. Rush started to giggle, said that the Viagra he had taken a half-hour ago was kicking in, and he needed to take immediate action. He then started getting busy with the hooker right there on my futon. I closed my eyes, put my hands over my ears, and raced from the room, as quickly as I could, but I had already seen and heard too much. The horror, the horror!
Anyway, I think that proves that I needed to take a break from blogging before I started having dreams about Mel Gibson.
I was at a chain bookstore. It was about closing time. Standing in the doorway, looking lost, were Andy Griffith and his wife, and Don Knotts and his wife. I approached them to say how much I had enjoyed “The Andy Griffith Show” when I was a kid. Andy graciously thanked me, and said that they were bigger than Jesus back then.
I smiled weakly, and asked them if I could be of any assistance. Andy indicated that their car never showed up, and asked if I could give them a ride to their hotel. I said sure, but that we’d have to walk to my apartment and get my car keys first, but it would only take a minute, since I lived right next door.
It turned out that my apartment was underneath The Gap, which had apparently been built right over me, since I had refused to sell or something. (It was kind of like a certain Bugs Bunny cartoon, now that I think of it.)
We went down the trap door and into the dank hole which was my apartment, and I realized that Andy, Don, and wives had been replaced by Rush Limbaugh and a blonde hooker. I was less enthusiastic about providing assistance, but continued to look for my car keys. Rush started to giggle, said that the Viagra he had taken a half-hour ago was kicking in, and he needed to take immediate action. He then started getting busy with the hooker right there on my futon. I closed my eyes, put my hands over my ears, and raced from the room, as quickly as I could, but I had already seen and heard too much. The horror, the horror!
Anyway, I think that proves that I needed to take a break from blogging before I started having dreams about Mel Gibson.
6 Responses to “My Dream”
Thanks a million. From now on, every time I watch that Bugs Bunny cartoon, I’ll find myself thinking of Rush having carnal knowledge of a woman. Must you taint everything that’s good and wholesome America?
At least it was just a blonde hooker–it coulda been Daryn Kagan! And then it’d be a technicolor vomitorium.
that was WAYYYYYYY too much sharing, tyvm.
I can only imagine that a very, very elevated temperature was motivating your dream.
You know it was a dream, because you saw too much. Had it been real, you’d have seen too little.
Re: Vomitorium — I don’t think that word means what you think it means.
Re: Vomitorium — I don’t think that word means what you think it means.
Marq don’t let Kip W Says shame you into committing suicide (no doubt his intention). He is not worth it. You are in good company:
“To Franken & Davis, comedy did not have to be pretty. They came to specialize in writing fairly elaborate historical sketches involving such unlikely subjects as leeches and other ghastly medieval medical cures (in the fourth season’s “Theodoric of York, Medieval Barber” sketch starring Steve Martin) and a Roman “vomitorium” (in a fifth season outing with Burt Reynolds). The pair retained their youthful vulgarity even after achieving veteran status with sketches like “Dr. Shockley’s House of Sperm”. ”
http://movies.yahoo.com/movie/contributor/1800103256/bio
“To Franken & Davis, comedy did not have to be pretty. They came to specialize in writing fairly elaborate historical sketches involving such unlikely subjects as leeches and other ghastly medieval medical cures (in the fourth season’s “Theodoric of York, Medieval Barber” sketch starring Steve Martin) and a Roman “vomitorium” (in a fifth season outing with Burt Reynolds). The pair retained their youthful vulgarity even after achieving veteran status with sketches like “Dr. Shockley’s House of Sperm”. ”
http://movies.yahoo.com/movie/contributor/1800103256/bio
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