A Guide to Rationalizing Your Dreams

A man walked into my room today and started looking around and digging through all my belongings. I asked him to stop. He politely refused. I stood up from from the chair that i was sitting in and began puffing my chest outward with the hopes of scaring him.

He casually glanced at me and then continues to peruse my bookcase.

You see? This fucking city is run by pigs.

When he was done with my books he turned to my closet and started examining my collection of delightfully ironic t-shirts. He giggled to himself a few times. He turned to me and threw a smirk of disgust at me.

Understand? We're fighting a war we can't win.

I started walking towards him with my fists clenched. I tripped on my feet and fell to the carpet.

The man stepped over me and began typing on my laptop. I stumbled to my feet and threw a punch. My fist missed him by a clean yard.

The man became a clown and laughed at me. Indignant, I stormed out of my room and into the hallway. The clown who now wore a hat rushed past me and threw himself down the stairs. I heard the unfamiliar crack of his breaking neck three times.

When he reached the bottom, his body slumped over onto the hardwood floors. Worried about his safety, I unselfishly descended down the stairs.

As I hit the fourth step, he stood on his knees and laughed. I laughed. It was pretty funny. He seemed glad that I could take it all in stride.

His fist was the size of a Cadillac and his eyes were the color I thought Morningstar would like like if I knew what Morningstar was. He banged the bottom stair with his weaker coupe-sized fist and I heard the screeching of metal. At this point, I was thirsty so I hopped over the stair banister fell through the living room table feet first.

The clown told me he was a copkiller. I ignored his jive. He knew how to lay it on thick.

He wanted to tell me a joke. The best joke ever told, apparently. I waited impatiently. I was parched.

It was more of a long story than a joke.

He started:

There once was a boy named Jim. Jim had a pretty horrible family life in that his father drank entirely too much and his mother was an enabling sort of bitch. Jimmy had a sibling, a sister. Her name was Lucy. Lucy was a total klepto and ought to have stolen everything she came across.

One day, Jimmy walked home from daycare and found a rabbit sitting in his kitchen. He figured his sister stole the rabbit from a store or something dumb like that so he went about his usual business, waiting for the night to fall and playing with light switches. But when Jimmy walked into his room, the rabbit followed him. Jimmy berated the rabbit with ethnic slurs for that was how he was taught. The rabbit began to speak but Jimmy couldn't understand Spanish, so he blamed multiculturalism.

Jimmy's father then came home and found the same rabbit sitting in the kitchen. Jimmy's father blamed his bitch of a wife for the rabbit and cooked up a plan to teach her a lesson once and for all.

Jimmy's sister came home and realized that the rabbit the she stole while she was playing hooky the day before somehow got loose from his cage that she also stole. Realizing that the rabbit getting free was a sign from some higher being, she decided she would never steal things again, animals at least. She retreated to her room and watched the television she had stolen a month earlier.

Finally Jimmy's mother arrived at the house speaking on her cellular phone. She was speaking to her dear friend Carol who was going through a hard time. Jimmy's mom realized she was lucky to have such a great husband.

Jimmy's father crept into the room quietly and tapped her on the back. Jimmy's mother was surprised and dropped the phone. Then Jimmy's father made Jimmy mother wash all the dishes in the house and bring him a beer already opened. Jimmy's father only drank Pabst Blue Ribbon. Jimmy's father didn't like the wood accents in Sam Adams or the color of Guinness. Plus, if he went to the right place, he was able to trade his food stamps for Pabst.

Eight beers later, Jimmy's father remembered where he placed the hatchet that he bought for when he had to cut down those trees because the county said they were unsafe.

Jimmy was awoken by the sounds of cleaving. He walked to the kitchen and found that his mother was nowhere to be found, the flaky bitch. Jimmy's father offered to take Jimmy to the zoo the next day if he went back to his room and left the grownups to do their grownup things.

He ended the story with a smoky gut laugh.

I laughed as well. It was pretty funny I had to admit. I walked to the fridge and grabbed a soda. The clown said he was thirsty as well, so I gave him a sip of mine, but he got his clown blood all over the can. No worries, I thought to myself as I rotated the can and drank from a different side.

I realized I identified with the hatchet as I felt he was the most likable character in the story. The clown agreed and noted my resemblance to the hatchet. He asked if I wanted to meet his hatchet. I said yes and he told me to wait where I was. I did.

After cleaning up all the excess blood and locating my right arm I woke up and wondered what the hell a Morningstar was.



THE END

Moral of the story: Don't steal rabbits. Choose your fathers wisely. Do not under any circumstances seek congress with miniature axes.