Saturday, October 23, 2010

A Tongue Lashing of the Worst Kind

Five minutes ago, I was sitting in the back of an open, flatbed truck with a few other men I did not know while an adult male tiger sat behind me, licking the top of my head. It had escaped from my neighbor’s yard after Coast Guard helicopters arrived and dropped two, large wart hogs into their yard in what I assumed to be an effort to capture and remove the tiger. I was as surprised as you are, since offering a tiger a fresh pork dinner was not what I had in mind when I saw the helicopters arrive. What would be the outcome of the battle between two slightly airsick adult warthogs and an angry Bengal tiger? My family was somewhere behind me on the truck, but they quickly disappeared when the tiger jumped the fence into our back yard. A rather large man in a green striped shirt approached the truck, laughing, holding a paring knife.

“He won’t hurt you,” the man said. “He’s just playing.”

I looked at him nervously. Tigers are big. I could feel his weight pressed against my back as he eagerly lapped the top of my head. That’s the last time I purchase tallow scented Prell.

“Here,” the man continued, offering me his paring knife. “I’m his trainer. You’ll be okay.”

I accepted the offered paring knife, not sure what I would do with it. There was a chain rattling behind me. I assumed it was the choker collar around the tiger’s neck. Actually, it was around the Big Fuzzy Dog’s neck. He was at the foot of my bed, rattling his choker collar in an effort to wake me up and let him out. Reggie the rent-a-dog sat next to the bed, licking my arm. I knew then that I would be up for the day. There’s no going back to sleep after being shampooed by a large cat.

Last night, shortly after falling asleep, I was running for my life when Terminator-type cyborg creatures were chasing me through the streets of Bermuda.

I’m sure that dream interpreters would have a field day with these two nocturnal events. I’m not even certain why I am sharing them here, except that I just woke up, the dream is fresh in my mind, the house is quiet, and I wanted to let you know that my back-up computer is up and running and I’m back on line.

Have a good weekend.

I’ll see you on Monday.


Papa Bear said...

Your computer's back up? Hooray!

Kathleen said...

What fun to remember a dream well enough to blog it!

Marlis said...

Yeah, sometimes dreams are weird though. I dreamed I was married to a black rap star who had dwarfism the other day. I hate rap! Where did that come from????

Arby said...

It's a good thing you only hate rap, otherwise you'd be a racist dwarfophobe.

Papa Bear said...

Actually, my first thought was, "What's the Coast Guard doing in Kansas?"

Arby said...

Saving a land-locked tiger, dude. Isn't that what they're trained to do? "Join the Coast Guard. Save Kansas wild cats." It should be a recruiting poster.

Papa Bear said...


Katydid said...

Dreams only prove (sp?) that God has a sense of humor!!!!!!!

Twisted said...

So what does it mean when I dream the wicked witch of the west (you know who) puts a contract out on me. I dreamt I was shot by a street thug, but the car door deflected it enough that it lodged under the skin like a chemo port plug. I was able to show it to the Commander. "See it's right there in my stomach."
I am forewarned.

Brownie said...

I was wondering why they used warthogs. I thought that a fresh beef drop would be better. Then I thought how could he sit there. Then I thought... is this another of Arby's stories. Oh! a dream. That figures.

Years ago when I was first married I had a dream that I was at my mother's house and a toaster was involved. Toaster chasing me, I wanted a toaster... it centered on the toaster.

I told my dream to the psychologist where I worked. He asked me if I was trying to get pregnant. I was taken back by his question and asked why. He said usually when women dream about cooking implements they are trying to get pregnant.

I said - huh, I learned something today. He looked rather please and asked what I learned.

I said - not to tell you anymore of my dreams.