She awoke with a start, her heart pounding in her perfect bosom, her golden skin bathed in a light sheen of Chanel-fragrant sweat with just a hint of beargrease. She gazed into the darkness, her preternatural senses telling her the hour was just after 3:00, the hour of death, and waited for her terror to subside. She had had the Dream again.
For a time it had gone away --she had hoped for good-- but lately it was recurring with increasing frequency. She blamed the proclivities of the lawyer woman and the reptile
girl who felt compelled to share every detail of their extremely active and truly bizarre night visions with each other with the avid encouragement of The Nosy One Who for Some Reason Loved Hearing about Everyone’s Lives.
And it hadn’t helped that this same person who insists on wearing an unbelievably tacky t-shirt to bed that says Smile! You went to the University of Richmond! had forced her to listen to 4000 posts from the Sacred Writings of the Great Chicken last night. She shuddered. No
wonder she was dreaming The Dream Again, even after all this time.
WIth its details still vivid in her mind, she rose from her Calvin Klein Egyptian cotton sheets (the animal skins having been drycleaned and stored for the summer) and
wandered to the entrance of the cave, her strong, supple, naked body glistening in the faint starlight. A small sliver of moon offered little comfort. “Oh Mother Goddess, Diana,” she sighed. “Purge me of these nightly visitations. Cleanse my mind of the memories that
haunt me! Strengthen my defenses against the evil that lives on in the archives of this thread, and take these extra pounds away so that my summer thongs won’t leave these
awful dents in my stomach.”
A light breeze wafted toward her and on its breath she thought she could hear a faint voice,
“Hola, Big Breast Rambisexicutiblondi! Gootchigootchi!!”
She whirled back to the cave and grabbed her samurai shinto katana from her knife and sword display cabinet. Turning back to the night, she fell to her knees and raising the
hand-crafted oriental sword, custom made for her at the forge of ChenChao-po, she cried out to the mother-goddess-
“As Diana is my witness, I'll never be hungry again!”
In the ensuing silence, she realized that the drama and passion of the moment may have caused her to be slightly confused about her climactic closing lines, but decided that it was best to continue and hope no one noticed. She rose and took a deep breath.
With horror, she noticed the distinct odor of chicken shit on the waning night's air. |
