The night makes me do things I wouldn’t do during the day. For instance last night I dug a hole to the center of the Earth. I don’t know why I did it. But I was glad I did because it turns out the center is filled with caramel. I like caramel.
And I wasn’t the only person there. There must have been seventy other people dining on this sweet treat. I met the Mowbson’s. They dug a tunnel over 15 years ago and dine on this candy delight every Friday night!
God: What do you have there, Brooks?
Brooks: It’s a list of things I’d like for you to do for me.
God: Oh no.
Brooks: It’s not that long. I narrowed it down to 24 pages. Well, actually it’s 24 sheets of paper, both sides. Here, take a look.
God:….A talking Eagle named Burt? A thick head of hair like the movie critic Gene Shalit? A root beer soda fountain in your backyard?
Brooks: Yes.
God: And why do you think I would grant you these wishes?
Brooks: Because you’re nice?
God: I’m only going to do one. Which one do you want?
Brooks:…Um…Ah…Oh…
God: Would you please make up your mind!
Brooks: I’m trying, I’m trying.
God: DECIDE NOW, OR I RESCIND MY OFFER!!!
Brooks: Okay, I got it…I want the Pushmi-pullu petting zoo.
God: (waggling a finger) There you go.
The Pushmi-pullu petting zoo appeared in my backyard. I ran over and began caressing and cuddling the furry creatures with abandon. My joy was infectious. God came over to pet a Pushmi-pullu, but it bit God’s hand. God got furious and called it an impudent beast. Then God stepped in a fresh Pushmi-pullu turd and pitched a fit. I kept it to myself that these things happened because God was punishing God for scrimping on my list.
I woke up to discover I was laying on a giant marshmallow. I didn’t go to sleep on a giant marshmallow. Yet there it was underneath me. I grabbed a hunk and put it in my mouth. It was warm because I had been laying on it. Marshmallows taste better when warm.
I was energized from the sweet treat and jumped out of bed. I landed knee deep in Sprite soda. The carbonation ticked the skin on my feet and shins. I was curious how there could be carbonation because soda exposed to the air for a while goes flat. But I pushed that thought aside and went back to the joys of the tingling.
I walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Chocolate milk came out and coated my skin. I love the smell of chocolate. I makes me feel that I won the lottery because I would take that money and buy a great deal of chocolate.
When I got out of the shower I was met by a giant sheep. The sheep was standing in front of the towel rack. I realized the opportunity and rolled back and forth on the sheep until I was dry.
Birds flew in through the window and piece-by-piece stitched clothes onto me, made of what seemed to be the same ingredients that go into the making of a nest.
I took my time machine back to May 16th, 1785, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and the office of the president of the Supreme Executive Council of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, Benjamin Franklin.
We got to talking. After about a half hour, Franklin commented that he noticed I have a hard time looking people in the eye. I agreed. He asked me why it’s so difficult for me. I said I didn’t know.
Franklin sat in reflective thought for a moment. Then he revealed that he was terrified of ducks. He said he purposely never visited the local park because they have a pond that is said to be heavily populated with ducks.
“What?!? Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just I’m so tense. I fret about hawks eating me for lunch. Or some damn bird getting the worm before me. Or is my plumage up to snuff. You’d think my being able to fly would usurp any petty thought or feeling. But that’s not my life. To be honest, I wish I were an elephant. They’re built like a tank, everyone gets out of their way, and they have those cool trunks. Sure, they probably worry about being caught and forced to work for the circus. But I’d give up the bulk of my freedoms to fly through flaming hoops, as the audience applauds, and my handler feeds me a small amount of bird seed. If you happen to work for the circus, and are currently auditioning, come find me. I’m on tree number 92, in the Blark Forest.”
