the Bucky Four-Eyes Cotillion

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

A seed-spitting contest would have been more civilized

Mom's been gone for over two years now, and I still dream about her on an almost-nightly basis.

I'm the last person who would classify my dreams as anywhere in the vicinity of "normal" - if I shared most of my nocturnal subconscious adventures, you'd all probably track me down and team up to lace the straitjacket - but when Mom makes her appearances, it's usually as a casual observer to whatever demented scenario my brain cooks up for my dining and dancing pleasure.

But not this time.

Several nights ago, I dreamt that I was walking down a flight of stairs, and noticed little pieces of watermelon scattered all over the steps, the floor, on the was MelonPalooza (which would be an excellent name for a topless bar, but I digress). When I inquired as to the source of the haphazard fruit explosion, I was informed that my mother and my sister had gotten into a knife fight. With each other. Apparently, the watermelon was a proverbial innocent bystander, a victim of "I rolled into the wrong place at the wrong time."

Rushing into the adjoining room, I found Mom and Squirl, disarmed and unharmed after their impromptu slashfest. They'd been told to sit down and calm themselves, get control of their tempers, and there they both were, sullen but less stabby expressions on their faces...each with a plastic champagne cork in her mouth. The plastic corks, you see, were to help regulate their breathing and chill them both out. Obviously.

Sure, it was only a dream. Just to be on the safe side, though, I'm being extra nice to Squirl, because one never knows when one's sister might lose her shit and cut a bitch. Or a bitch's melons.

10 of you felt the overwhelming need to say somethin':

Blogger Flying Mermaid said...

Oy yoy yoy!

I dreamt about my mother last night for the first time in a long time -- wtf? Mine wasn't near as wild, though, that I can remember.

Hey, how do I subscribe to this bitch? You haven't been posting enough to have me keep checking lately, and then I miss out. Didn't you used to bulletin over at MyHo, or am I your only reader from there?

12:26 AM, January 14, 2009  
Blogger eclectic said...

Classy Sister, my ass. Squirlie's lookin' to graduate to the slashy sister. And I'm vewy afwaid.

1:24 AM, January 14, 2009  
Blogger Squirl said...

So I'm going from clashy to slashy. Good one.

I hope we got to drink some of that champagne. That would probably have worked faster. :-)

6:48 AM, January 14, 2009  
Blogger Mr. Bloggerific Himself said...

*no likes watermelon*

6:58 AM, January 14, 2009  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I met her, and saw her wield a knife and a crab hammer.

That bitch will totally cut you.

10:21 AM, January 14, 2009  
Blogger Squirl said...

Damn straight!

3:32 PM, January 14, 2009  
Blogger Squirl said...

What you didn't mention, Susie, is that most are safe as my aim really sucks. Unless you're a watermelon, it seems.

3:33 PM, January 14, 2009  
Blogger Bone Machine said...

It sounds very cinematic.

9:26 AM, January 15, 2009  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Wow. Does her presence each night feel comforting in some way? I think I'd be a mix if my dad showed up every night - the joy of seeing him reconciling every time to the fact he's gone, when I wake up.
Now, as for the watermelon? I got nothin'. A crazy psycho ex-roommate once wrote poetry about me, as a watermelon, growing from the attention and love of my friends & eclipsing her, the speck of dust on the wall. (Single White Female: She was it!)

1:50 PM, January 16, 2009  
Blogger Unknown said...

Was there no compassion for the unfortunate watermelon?

5:03 AM, January 23, 2009  

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