Sometimes life will ransack you. You'll get all tied up with work, bear wrestling, making diamonds out of coal, cock fighting, spinal surgery, tennis lessons, shark hunting, slaughtering a bunch of trespassing teenagers who are having pre-marital sex and doing tons of drugs on your camp site property, warning those same teenagers that the camp they're visiting has a death curse, taking pictures of birds, finding new and better ways to raise domesticated octopuses in captivity, kicking your meth addiction, burning down an entire city block by accidentally letting the grease from your gas grill flame up in complete terror, hiking, and plowing up your back yard to make room for your summer herb garden.
The next thing you know, a month or more has passed by, and you haven't updated the Tirade! A mentally abused blog is a horrifying thing, I promise you that, bud.
Well, no more of that. Thanks to my friend Tommy Forrester's comment on the previous post, I've decided to stop working for 20 minutes and get down to the most important job of all:
Giving hope to the hopeless by writing a bunch of crap on this blog.
So attention hopeless! Get your shit together! Snap out of it and let's get down to business here!
Now that the hopeless have hope again, let me tell you guys about this in-sane dream I had last night. It was unbelievably awesome.
Wait, before I tell you about the dream I had last night, let me tell you about a dream that I had last week that was pretty important. Last week, I dreamed (for the first time in my entire life) that Jason Voorhees was actually coming to kill me.
It seriously, really, really scared the hell out of me. I woke up with a snap, a jump and a gasp. I gasped like one of those old women gasp when they see the price of cauliflower by the pound has quadrupled in the past 5 years.
Basically, out of nowhere, I was being chased. The events leading up to this crazy moment aren't really important, I think; all I remember was the chase sequence.
And then suddenly I was on horseback. Somebody was with me... I can't remember who exactly, but let's call him Karl.
Karl ditched me in the first few seconds of the dream.
Now that Karl was gone, I was flying down the old country road near my mom's house. I tried to lose him by leaping off the horse, and letting it keep on going down the road. In retrospect, I don't really think this is lucid... since the road is a total straight-away, and he would have obviously been able to see me fly off the horse like Wyatt Earp and run into the bushes.
Nevertheless, there I was, in the bushes. I watched as he slowly came trotting up on his horse.
Yeah, that's right. Voorhees was riding a damn horse. Don't tell me you've never thought of this actually happening. He grew up at camp; there was bound to be some equine action going on at Crystal Lake. I bet the camp had some really nice stables, actually.
Anyway, he came clopping up on the pavement with his horse. I was looking through a bush, but then suddenly realized that the bush was super small, and he could probably obviously see me. However, he didn't. He went trottin' on down the road.
So I gasped a sigh of relief, just like the kind of gasp that old woman gasp when they see the price of cauliflower has quadrupled in the past five years... but then the sign falls off the display, and underneath is another sign that says, "just kidding, this cauliflower is the same price as it was in 1943. Please, take a bunch for free."
I was elated. Until I glanced back over my shoulder... and the son of a bitch was sprinting straight towards me through the field, those dark, hollow eyes with a massive machete. I couldn't get away, I was stuck in the bush, and he came right up on me to slice my entire body in half.
Needless to say, I woke the hell up in total terror. That was IN-TENSE!
Now that all that has been cleared up, let's go back in time and talk about that dream that happened last night. Last night I was fishing with my woman on the back of some lost, mysterious pond in the middle of nowhere.
I was super stoked. I had my little chair, cold beer in hand and the lady was kicked back, sliding some dog food on the end of her hook. What a secret weapon.
Anyway, I threw a top water plug in, for some reason, just to see if anything would strike in the shallow. Working it back and forth under some low-hanging limbs, I got a strike, set the hook, and pulled in this massive 3" bluegill. Needless to say, this dream was very, very close to real life. I was so excited that I looked over at the lady to show her. She just smiled and held up this huge 5 lb. bass that she'd apparently caught when I wasn't paying attention. Women fisherman are sneaky as hell, man.
Anyway, so I got up to go to the truck for something. As I was walking away, I looked back and noticed something insane.
There were giant alligators crawling out of the water at every single foot of the pond. These things were MASSIVE. For some reason, the lady didn't even notice. She was probably determined to catch even more bass to show me up with her damn dog food. Anyway, I kept yelling and yelling for her to run, but she kept fishing. This chick was SERIOUS about the bass.
Anyway, I finally flagged her down and she screamed in terror and ran like hell. It was crazy how fast these things were moving, crawling everywhere on the banks.
At that point, the dream went all to hell, as they always tend to do when you've eaten a bunch of leftover Easter ham with ranch dressing and Cheetos before you pass out for the night. It switched gears and turned into this insane sequence from "The Lost World," Jurassic Park II. There were jeeps flying around everywhere, and pilots, and giant stun guns and nets and camouflage and sonic bazookas. (I actually didn't get a good look at those bazookas, but I have a feeling that that's what they were.)
I don't really remember anybody getting eaten, which was a plus, and also there were no mad scientists or giant snakes, which wasn't so much of a plus.
One thing's for sure, readers, I'd much rather be fishing today with alligators and a beautiful woman than working. However, before I packed up my tackle and beer, I'd sit down and write another 10 posts, just to keep on giving hope to the hopeless.
And cauliflower to the old women.
Sorry I've been gone for so long, readers. It's good to be back.
Muah.
-M
1 Comments:
winston loved that tirade so much he got full, induced a vomit and ate some more.
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