I dreamt I was a man driving a tractor trailer through a dark and foreboding landscape. Ahead of me I saw a carriage being drawn by wild boars. The carriage was empty and it positioned itself directly ahead of my tractor trailer. I kept trying to get my truck to the side of the carriage so I could make sure it was empty. The boars led me through the macabre forest safely but right when I was about to reach my destination, my dream shifted. No longer was I in a forest but a suburban neighborhood. I was also veritably myself again. The wild boars were still with me except they were no longer good boars. The boars now had artillery strapped to their torsos and they were wrangling up the people of the neighborhood. They had us stand against a white picket fence. The head boar held a Cosmopolitan magazine and he read out the monthly quiz, “If you answer A, that is two points! If you answer B, that is 3 points!” This was my first time not knowing what the correct, normal answers to the Cosmo quiz questions and I started to whimper and fear for my safety. I awoke.
donnaville
sugar and spice and everything groovy
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Well, Donna, try this one on for size:
It was a fine summer evening in Brooklyn. I and a number of others were standing outside Peter Luger’s Steak House. We wanted to enter and have dinner, but we were reluctant, because there was nowhere to secure our lawn mowers. Eventually, we decided that they’d be safe on the sidewalk — who’d steal a lawn mower in Brooklyn, after all? — so we left them there and went inside.
The restaurant was enormous and very dark. There was only one diner present: my father, who was hunched over an enormous steak with every conceivable side dish and garnish. Not having seen Dad since he died twenty years ago, I sat with him and made small talk about the changes since then, until the waiter arrived with the menu.
The menu was organized like a multiple-choice test, but one’s “answers” had to be written in longhand into very small spaces thereupon, with a dry-erase marker. I did my best to be neat, but when I turned it over to the waiter, he shook his head, said “You flunk,” and told me I could only have a roll with butter, which he thereupon brought. Dad clucked at me without sympathy and gave his full attention to his steak.
When I went back outside, my lawn mower was missing.
I hate it when the boars put on the artillery.