A Dream Right Before Waking
I live in downtown Baghdad. I am heading to a date. We am going to eat chop suey.
I enter the subway and get into a train. The train looks like a really big Dodge Grand Caravan, which you enter through the rear tailgate. I get a seat in the back. My eyes are closed and I am cowering, convinced that I will die on this train. A Marine closes the tailgate and we are off.
This train is FAST and highly maneuverable. I assume it is designed that way to outrun snipers.
My eyes open. I realize that cowering does no good. At this point, my life is not in my own hands.
After a while, I get off the train and exit the subway. In this neighborhood, everyone has a plane parked in front of the house. Most of them are cool jets. Mr. Chop Suey has a biplane in Swedish national colors. This does not bode well.
I ring the doorbell and bend down to look at my shoelace. Mr. Chop Suey grabs me from behind and wraps his arms around my waist.
"We're going to eat chop suey! We're going to eat chop suey! Yay!"
At that moment I have the sickening realization that I know two and only two things about this man: (1) that he is a man, and (2) he really likes chop suey.
I begin walking to the chop suey place. Mr. Chop Suey is still bouncing behind me, his hands around my waist. I am about to turn around when my friend Michael and his mother walk by. I can tell by Michael's expression that Mr. Chop Suey is not at all cute.
"Um, see you in a couple hours, Michael." I vageuely remember that there is a party at my house in the near future.
I look down at look at Mr. Chop Suey's hands. They are tiny and wrinkled and very dirty. I still have no idea what he looks like. Oh crap, this is going to be a disaster.
Then I wake up.
On the stereo: Buzzin' Fly Volume One
I enter the subway and get into a train. The train looks like a really big Dodge Grand Caravan, which you enter through the rear tailgate. I get a seat in the back. My eyes are closed and I am cowering, convinced that I will die on this train. A Marine closes the tailgate and we are off.
This train is FAST and highly maneuverable. I assume it is designed that way to outrun snipers.
My eyes open. I realize that cowering does no good. At this point, my life is not in my own hands.
After a while, I get off the train and exit the subway. In this neighborhood, everyone has a plane parked in front of the house. Most of them are cool jets. Mr. Chop Suey has a biplane in Swedish national colors. This does not bode well.
I ring the doorbell and bend down to look at my shoelace. Mr. Chop Suey grabs me from behind and wraps his arms around my waist.
"We're going to eat chop suey! We're going to eat chop suey! Yay!"
At that moment I have the sickening realization that I know two and only two things about this man: (1) that he is a man, and (2) he really likes chop suey.
I begin walking to the chop suey place. Mr. Chop Suey is still bouncing behind me, his hands around my waist. I am about to turn around when my friend Michael and his mother walk by. I can tell by Michael's expression that Mr. Chop Suey is not at all cute.
"Um, see you in a couple hours, Michael." I vageuely remember that there is a party at my house in the near future.
I look down at look at Mr. Chop Suey's hands. They are tiny and wrinkled and very dirty. I still have no idea what he looks like. Oh crap, this is going to be a disaster.
Then I wake up.
On the stereo: Buzzin' Fly Volume One
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