I had a dream.
No, not that dream. My dream was much more….diversified, let’s say.
It starts off like this: I’m standing half-naked at the mall (I’m wearing an AC/DC t-shirt), and I’m trying to get the attention of the popcorn vendor by doing jumping-jacks and singing some Kenny Rogers in a falsetto voice.
Suddenly, a man-sized turkey darts from one of the stores and plucks me up, carrying me on its back. I ride the turkey side-saddle (of course) all the way to Toronto then decide to ride the elevator to the top of the CN tower, where we cook the turkey and feed the homeless for two weeks.
This is where it gets weird.
After all the turkey has been consumed, I find out I’ve been nominated to represent West Nipissing in a debate about whether we should keep the five-dollar bill or go to a five-dollar coin called a ‘Pentaloon’. I accept the nomination, and go into an intense 6-week study program to ensure my preparedness for just such an event.
At the debate, I find out that I’m up against, of all people, Hulk Hogan. In a pitched battle that leaves 10 dead, 25 wounded, and 14 missing, I successfully win the debate, and the ‘Pentaloon’ goes into production the very next day. Unfortunately, I become vilified by the media, because the coin is a little big (each one weighs 2 pounds) leading to back pain everywhere.
Despite this setback, the Pentaloon also proves to be a great throwing disc, and because so many Canadians are using the Pentaloon, we go on to win the next Olympics based solely on our Discus Throw in track-and-field. These Olympic victories leads Canada on an international winning streak for several years.
Strangely (?!?), at this point, I dream that I develop the ability to fly, thus embarking on a solitary tour of Europe and Africa in search of the perfect cup of coffee (it’s so much easier to go places when you fly yourself, although those damned ducks sure don’t like to share air space, do they!)
Working in tandem with Rosa Parks and Picasso (hey, it’s my dream!), we develop a coffee that not only tastes better than any other beverage, it is so addictive that we become filthy-rich and decide to buy England as a tax shelter.
After a while, owning my own country becomes boring, so I sell everything and give most of the proceeds to charity, although I do keep enough to ensure a living commensurate with my position (Head honcho of Hair Club For Men, which I co-own with my uncle Mike; for those who know Mike, Hair Club for Men has been a dream of his, too.)
I awake at this point, all sweaty. It’s 4:30 a.m., I’m in my own bed, my wife is snoring, and my dog is looking at me like I’ve been talking in my sleep. He looks, understandably, a little worried. This is where I make a huge decision.
No more ‘jalapeno cheese poppers’ before bed.
Bill's Musings 