show and tell
i have been known to walk, talk and preach in my sleep, but unlike many others (hi there, holli-brooke) i have never had many lucid dreams. but last night was an exception to the rule.
it all started when i stumbled into our bathroom and was startled to find that it was literally splattered with shit. there was shit smeared on the windows, shit caked in the crevice between the handle of the flusher and the basin, and our hand towels, which had apparently been used in lieu of sanitary paper, were smeared with shit. as soon as the stench of shit hit my nostrils, i knew who perpetrator was an old acquaintance who has, dare i say, less than reputable hygienic tendencies.
so i had my old college buddy matt woodrow drive me down to the corner store where this fellow kept a satellite office. after a quick interrogation, i wrestled a confession out of the bastard, found out how he entered our locked house – i figured the basement window was his most likely point of access, but it turns out that he used wayne newton’s backstage door instead – and, grasping him firmly by the neck, i physically forced him into the backseat of the car.
once we got back to the house, i vehemently berated the guilty party while he cleaned and disinfected every inch of that bathroom. after he finished, i resisted the urge to physically harm him, but i made damn sure he knew that his life would be in jeopardy if he ever shit stained our bathroom again.
what’s the moral of the story? if you ever decide to spray shit all over our bathroom, there will be hell to pay.
i also had a more peaceful dream that focused on negro league baseball, stowe, vermont and chicken cordon-bleu. but my show and tell time is now up.
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