Quote:
Originally posted by str8outavannuys
I pulled it up, and it was the size and appearance of my beloved dachsund/pappillon. I wrestled with it, and it bit me, and I tried to choke it, but then decided that I was being stupid, and let it go.
***
So Joseph, what do you make of this dream?
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Flinty beat (tee hee!) all of us to the joke here.
I had a dream a couple of weeks ago that I haven't gotten around to sharing with the Board. This one had no recently departed news anchors -- it was populated entirely of FB people.
I was riding on a bus with Sequels. Coltrane and Sebby had just died engaging in a heroic ocean rescue (although those rescuers perished, the victims survived), and Sequels was devastated. As we rode along toward our undetermined destination, I consoled her while she wept over her lost love and the wedding and the family that was never to be. As I was tut-tutting and telling Sequels how much Coltrane loved her (all the while holding back my tears over my lost internet love, out of deference to his beloved wife), the bus driver piped up and said, in a snarky tone, "Don't listen to her sentimental crap. Coltrane had cold feet, big time, and only proposed because you were both hitting thirty and he saw the ultimatum on the wall."
I turned to see that it was Piagow driving the bus. She had a cigarette hanging out of her mouth and was wearing a getup you might see on Stevie Nicks, if she were homeless. Lots of chiffon and whatnot. She had her left foot, which was shod in a high-heeled strappy sandal, up on the dash, which was curious because the bus had a manual transmission.
I turned my attention away from the driver and back to Sequels, to whom I said, "Don't listen to her, she's crazy, and bitter because Coltrane was never her internet boyfriend. Coltrane really loved you. He said that you were the only woman he'd ever dated whom he wanted to be with exclusively. If you don't believe me, ask Gwinky, DTB, and Fringey."
I think Sequels was consoled, but at that point my attention was again distracted, this time by the fact that the bus was headed straight for the river. At this point I noticed empty Shiraz bottles and wine-filled chocolate boxes on the bus floor, and I called out, "Who the fuck let Paigow drive the fucking bus?"
As the river drew ever closer, and I pondered how the newspaper headline would convey the painful irony of Sequels's perishing in a water-related accident so soon after losing her fiance to a water rescue (and how my love affair with Sebby would never be acknowledged) I realized, with great relief, that we were riding on one of those duck tour buses.
When I got off in front of the Lincoln Memorial, Thurgreed was there to meet me, and the first thing he said was, "Who the fuck let Paigow drive the fucking bus?"
