That? Don't worry, it's just the evil leaving your body

Dream #1

I am eating lunch in a plank wood restaurant that seems to float in the tree tops. Dot and Papa are there, and I know lunch must be on Papa, because I have an enormous lobster on my plate and a plastic bib on my chest. So do Dot and neither one of us like lobster. This restaurant has a lot of neon beer signs. I touch them as we walk down the hallway, our lobsters untouched on the table, out to the floating stairs that take us down to the forest floor.


"Don't worry about taking us home Papa. We could use some exercise after that lunch, and Dot said she's never been this deep in the forest before. We'd like to see some deer, and maybe some bunnies."


We take our leave, and I seem to know where I'm going. We talk about things that don't make sense, and a man steps out from the trees. He is over 7 feet tall, a handsome, coffee colored man, a stretched Denzel Washington. He asks to join us, and I see that his arms are too long, and so are his fingers. We walk silently until he grabs Dot by the throat and throws her to the ground. I grab a log the size of my forearm and go upside his head with it. He flies 25 feet, like he is made of paper maiche, hits a huge pine. I run forward and bludgeon his face with the log, screaming like an Amazon while his brains splatter my face. I hand the log to Dot so she can get in on the action when the alarm goes off.


Dream #2



I step outside the front door, and immediately realize that the house is being surrounded by a large group of unknown ne'er-do-wells. I am certain it doesn't matter who they are, they are a threat. "Fuck yeah bitches," I say without moving my lips, "it's motherfucking go time!" I spin back in the house, grab my Glock and her 30 round clip.


"Guys, we are being surrounded. Get your weapons, this is not a joke." I slam the magazine home, and pull back the slide to put one in the pipe. Very smooth, except when I drop the slide, the pistol mis-feeds and the shell jams the action. "What the FUCK?" I drop my mag, clear the shell and lock back the slide. I replace my magazine and hit the slide release. And it jams again. "What the FUCK? You are a Glock! You are never supposed to malfunction! Eric, I need the 50 round drum, I've got a mag problem over here, and this is not a good time!" I am crushed to find that we never loaded the drum, and can’t find the directions and I realize that it's too late because the ninja/S.W.A.T./zombies are certain to kill us any second when the alarm goes off.


Dream #3


I'm trying to watch TV, but someone is raising a ruckus in my front yard. Probably all the assholes I find parked there, crammed in all directions. I go inside to write angry notes to tape to their windshields, but I can't find the correct tone so they understand that I hate them and would be glad to shoot them if they park in my flowers again. I wad up the fifteenth ball of paper and throw it in the floor, and my bedroom windows start rattling thanks to one of my guest's boomin' system. I grab the shotgun by the door and hurry around the side of the house to confront them.


"Hey! Is there a good reason you parked in my gawd-damn yard?"


"We needed to go to the football game," said stretched out Denzel. I notice that he has a gold tooth now.


"I don't really care what you thought you needed to do, I am telling you right now, if you park your heap in my yard again, I will happily fill your ass full of buckshot, and I will be completely within in the law. Do you understand me?" He nods. "I'm glad you hear me. Now, would you like a bottle of water?"


He follows me to the front steps, where a tiny Mexican in alligator boots and a ten-gallon hat stops us. ""Scuse me mees? Choo know whose car that ess? I heet it wit' my truck, and it 'splode." I look behind him and see the burning shell of a compact car, and I am thrilled.