Written by joeybabe25
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Sunday, 28 October 2007

I don't normally talk about dreaming about men. Except he-men like Tony the butcher or Strangler Lewis. If I ever dream about them, I'll post it, then run, far away, hide, and look and see if anyone is calling me a fairy. And I know that most people don't like to hear about others dreams. They're too boring, and blah blah. But this one will excite you!

This morning while performing my morning plop plops on the pay toilet down the hall from my apartment (it says on the door "all kinds of shit 10 cents"...so what else should I do? Use the free toilet at the pancake house? They force you to buy a pancake before toileting. So, go to hell pancake house!) I was thinking about my dream last night about Dean Martin.

Dean and I were standing outside my Dad's old locksmith shop (we were in really deep Metro-Color too. Seems kind of gay, but this is Dean Martin we're talking about) and a bus passes with another Dean Martin sitting near the back. I looked at my Dean, and he was still there, so I went with it. It's not impossible to have two Dean Martin's in one dream. It doesn't mean you're some kind of repressed homo.

My Dean said I should make fun of the Dean on the bus. Give him the business, call him names to see if I could get him to cry. I did, to my regret. As the bus pulled away, Dean (on the bus) was balling like a child, and although I don't know what I said, the first Dean said that I had done a good job, and that he was proud of me.

Goddamn Dean Martins! It was a fun, colorful dream, until I began to feel bad about making the bus Dean cry. I'm not usually like that. But the ass Dean Martin thought it was pretty funny. I'll not soon dream about any Dean Martins again!

Post script: After all this, Dean said that Marlon Brando was making a film across the street and he wanted me to see if I could make him cry too. I guess Dean Martin had the power over me, because I started to where Brando was filming with the intent of taunting him until he cried.

Thankfully, I woke up then. And went down the hall to my toll toilet to contemplate the whole thing.

Joe Postove

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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