Slippery dippery duck, white people like to drive trucks. They should teach that jingle in classrooms. Imagine picking your kid up from school and instead of singing ring around the rosie, all the kids are just saying “slippery dippery duck, white people like to drive trucks!”
Speaking of white people, how about that stock market!? I don’t even know what’s going on with the stock market honestly. I’m assuming down. I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say down is what’s happening with the stock market.
I had the absolute wildest nightmare last night. I was in a house and was caught in the middle of some kind of war. About three hundred yards to the West there was a rather large house and behind it there were fireballs being launched to the North. That’s how detailed this nightmare was. I know directions.
Anyways, these fireballs kept getting launched to the North and everyone else in the house and I are watching these things like “yikes, this is all happening a little too close to home.” Then the fireballs start to swing towards us. For some reason I’m outside by the pool now. It’s a long skinny pool and it’s about 40 feet deep. Weird dimensions for a pool, I know. But roll with me here, because this felt very real.
I decide to hop in the pool because, I don’t know, water beats fire or whatever. But the fireballs are getting really close now. Like… dangerously close. Impending contact close. I consider diving to the bottom of the pool but realize I can’t hold my breath for nothing and the fireballs are probably bombs anyway so water isn’t going to help me much here.
I go inside. I don’t dry off because this is war. It’s seconds before the fireballs hit the house and nobody’s sure what to do. I realize if one of the fireballs looks like it’s not really moving in the air then it’s headed straight towards us. Sure enough, here one comes. It lands well short of the house. Everyone is taking cover.
A few more fireballs miss and we think we’re maybe in the clear, until I see it. It’s not moving in the air. Dead on. Higher than the last. This is hitting the house. I start running towards the pool, but some lady in the house screams “EVERYONE GET INSIDE AND COVER!” and for some reason I listen to her so I sprint back into the house and crawl under a table.
The fireball hits on the front porch and bounces through the door, and a fat kid standing in the middle of the room simply flicks it away with his finger. Nobody knows where he came from or who he was. Moreover, how he was able to flick a fireball with his finger. Everyone is confused. I’m still wondering why I listened to that lady instead of jumping in the pool. Time holds still.
BAM! Time begins to move very quickly again. I look through a pair of binoculars which I now have for some reason, and I see that whoever is in the house launching the fireballs has unleashed their gorillas out the front door. I yell “gorillas are coming! We gotta get out of here!” I’m talking legit silverbacks here. Not guerillas, but GORILLAS. And they mean business. These are trained gorillas. Like hunting dogs. Hunting gorillas. And they’re coming to hunt us.
Everyone runs out the back door and we all head to the cars, but there’s not enough seats available so some of us have to take the tractor. An older man yells “Fuck! Does anyone know how to operate the back end of the tractor? Nobody says anything.
I say that I’ve done it a couple of times, so it becomes my duty. Why is it necessary to operate the hand of a tractor in these circumstances? I don’t know. But we take off towards town. I’m messing around with the controls, getting a feel for up, down, forward and back. I’ve got a pretty good grip on it by the time we get into town, so if for some reason I need to scoop up a homeless person or something I could definitely pull it off.
Then I woke up. That was the dream. Thanks for listening to my dream. This dream was brought to you by Doug Fluties Descriptive ass Dream Dancers. If you need a dancer who can describe your dream, call Doug!
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