I walked down the street. Hundreds of dogs were lined up on the sidewalks of both sides of the street. The dogs sat and nodded as I strolled by.
When I got to the end of the street, I stopped and looked back at all the dogs looking at me. After a moment, I said, “Free!” All the dogs leapt up and ran to me.
I said, “And so begins the 200-hundred mile jaunt!” The dogs barked in concordance.
A schnauzer named Blerck said, “Wait, what about Bitty?”
I looked back up the street and saw Bitty the bulldog sitting still, focused on something nearby.
I yelled, “Bitty, your presence is requested.”
Bitty wouldn’t look at me, but yelled back, “I’m staying. There’s one leaf left on the oak tree and I don’t want to miss it fall.”
I woke to a dragon standing at the end of my bed. I saw it because it was breathing fire, lighting up the room. I was calm since I’m never disturbed while laying down, and said nonchalantly, “Oh, hi, are looking for the bathroom?”
The dragon was taken aback, I guessed because I wasn’t screaming and running around the room. The dragon said, “Yes, actually, I am.”
I told the dragon to go out the door and hang an immediate right. The dragon thanked me and left.
I lay there, wondering if I would fall back asleep. Sometimes I can fall into a doze within seconds. Other times I’m taken on a jumbled phantasm of fantasies, memories, and strewn thoughts, before I finally succumb.
Neither happened as I was distracted by rummaging coming from my living room. I got up and found the dragon looking through my collection of books.
The dragon said, “I was looking for something to read while I sat on the pot.”
I recommended Moby Dick. I had been reading it for some months and grown weary with its leviathan over fondness. If it got burnt up by the dragon, I wouldn’t feel the need to go out and buy another copy.
Being two. At that tender age I used to sing and dance on stages all over the country. I was called “Brooksie-Bee.” Folks couldn’t get enough of me. I was on Johnny Carson three times during that year. That was unheard of! But then I turned three and got mange from our dog, Plowder. The bookings stopped. I got depressed and began snorting talcum powder.
My friendship with actor, Burt Reynolds. I lived next door to him. We used to hangout. Often we would talk in animal sounds. Once he got so into making the sounds of a bull that he actually became 14 bulls, and stampeded my living room, destroying all the furniture. He then returned back to himself. He asked what happened to my living room. I told him. He didn’t believe me. I told him that’s because he had low-self esteem as an actor. He said I didn’t know what I was talking about, and he stormed out. He came back the next day and apologized and bought me new furniture. We were friends again. But then he died recently.
I went out at night with my flashlight to the backyard to have a talk with Big Rock.
I looked up at its towering presence and said, “Oh, Big Rock, you are so great. I know if you wanted to, you could roll over on me, snuffing out my existence.”
Big Rock said, “Yeah, yeah, whatever. What is it this time?”
I said, “I just can’t seem to relax. Something is always chawing at my bit. Maybe I’m not one of those folks that was made to sit still with a peaceful head. Yet still I hanker for calm. What do you recommend I do to get those still waters?”
Big Rock said, “I curse the day you bought this house and land. For a great chunk of thirty-two years, the previous tenants left me alone. I had what you would call a desirable life of things simple and sweet. But then you showed up, and pretty much every night I can count on the headache of you trudging on out here, carrying the heavy weight of, “Oh me, oh my’ and such, and I’ve got to tell you, I’ve had it. If you bother me once more with your inanity, I will roll over and land on on you, and I’ll be doing you a favor cause you’ll finally get that solace you’ve been chasing!”
I stood there quietly. I walked back into the house. I turned out the lights and lay on my bed. I heard the night sounds through the open window. The moonlight lit the floors and walls.
I began to sing:
Pick out a pleasant outlook Stick out that noble chin Wipe off that full-of-doubt look Slap on a happy grin
I heard a groan from outside the window. Then the sounds of Big Rock loosening itself from the ground’s moorings. I felt thunder shakes through the floor as Big Rock rolled hurtling towards my home.
I was thinking about how we first met when I was two and you one were. I was out for a waddle by myself, that was back when there were much less restrictions on toddlers and infants. I saw you out for a crawl, heading towards me.
When you reached me, you said, “Goo buum waaaap.” I said, “Hi” and waved at you a lot. We kept that up for a good while.
Finally we got tired and took a nap together right there in the middle of the sidewalk. We woke up when a pack of neighbor hood mutts were licking our heads. It turns out tots’ heads are very salty.
We decided to forgo the color blue. I felt it represented the blatant and petty nature of the sky, and you blamed the hue for a slight clicking sound in your jaw when you spoke.
We assembled our azures, piling them in the backyard. Your poured the gasoline, I lit the match. The flames were high. You mentioned that maybe we’d been hasty.
I ran into the house, devouring a “forgotten” blueberry pie.
