Monday, March 26, 2001

Yet Another Weird Dream

I'm going into a convenience store to get milk or something, and I notice that I am carrying a rifle. It doesn't really register that this is an unusual thing to do in Canada, so I continue on with my shopping. I approach the clerk at the cash register, and he starts whimpering, "Don't shoot me! I'll give you anything you want!"

This disorients me so much that I don't quite know how to react. For some strange reason, I decide to play along with what he thinks I'm doing and pretend to be mentally incompetent. "Gimme all yer money," I drawl, brandishing the rifle menacingly, "or I'll f*ckin' blast a hole in yeh." Frightened and blubbering, he gives me all the money in his register and backs away from the counter. As I'm stagger-limping out (remember, I'm deranged), I spot a newspaper in a stand by the door. I grab a newspaper and turn to the clerk (who has completely regained his composure by the time I turn around) and say, "Do you mind if I take one?"

"No problem," he replies calmly. "Have a nice day." (the standard and completely un-heartfelt closing salutation of all convenience store clerks)

I walk out to the car, casually toss the rifle into the back seat, and plop myself into the driver's seat. I put the jug of milk and the newspaper onto the seat beside me, and notice that the robbery I've just committed is on the front page, along with a grainy security camera photo (from above and behind) of me at the register. I catch myself wondering if the police will be waiting for me at the house by the time I get back.

At this point, I'm woken up by a fully dressed nine year old. She seems incredibly pleased with herself as she informs me that she woke up early (I look at the clock and see that it's 2:45 am), got herself dressed, put in *her own* pony tail and is ready to make pancakes.

Smiling happily, she stands there, waiting for my reply.

Bizarre doesn't begin to describe my life sometimes.

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