Monday, March 11, 2013

A trifecta of brain juice ...

An old enemy reared his weird, oblong head again to tell me that he planned to murder Chuck. He was going to skin a seal and affix that skin to Chuck's body. Or maybe it was the other way around. He said this all in the voice of the bad guy from a comic book, still, he scared me shitless. 

I found Chuck and warned him. He nodded stoically. He'd already heard the news and resigned himself to the idea that he was going to have to fend off a murderer with big plans for seal skin. In that brief, unsmiling nod, I saw that I could trust everything would be okay. 

I was at a parade and noticed that the woman standing in front of me had a peach fuzz mustache. And to her left, another woman with a thicker, more vaudeville villain style of mustache. All around me, women had mustaches. It was part of a feminist-hipster wave. 

Then they began to compare and critique. They were helpful to a woman with an obviously bare upper lip. 

"You've got to stop waxing," they told her. 
"Definitely stop waxing," they agreed. 

I was confused. I couldn't imagine how it was possible for so many women to grow a mustache. I knew I couldn't, no matter how hard I wished and grunted. By the end of the dream, I'd begun to find the look attractive and edgy. 

It was my dad's birthday and I'd stumbled on a great gift idea: This month's issue of Playgirl magazine. There was an article in there that I knew he would be interested in reading. I was in downtown Minneapolis and knew I had to find Barnes & Noble. But first, I had to find a bathroom. 

When I got to the bathroom I realized that the people in line would be able to see me sitting in my stall. 

"Will they think it's gross if I look at my phone while I'm on the toilet?" I wondered. "Or does everyone do that?" 

Little did I know that would be the least of my worries. Because the toilet overflowed when I flushed and I fell in the water and all sorts of muddy yuck stained my new white Keds. And then I realized that I hadn't bought Playgirl, I'd bought something called Duluth Digest which was full of ads for farming equipment. 

No comments: