Back on the Horse

Readers, when will I learn? In my attempt to get back on the house horse, I have compiled yet another list of houses. I have gotten clearance to take a half day of vacation at work to go see said houses. Shoot me in the face.

No, really. Shoot me in the face. Just make sure you finish the job, as I’m not so keen on walking around sans face. One of this month’s downloads is a song about a guy who wants to kill himself but can’t quite get up the nerve to do it. Thus, he hires a hit man. Just saying.

Last night, I had a dream that I was at a giant mall with my best friend from Georgia. There was an accident in the KB Toys that caused a giant block of foam to grow forth from the rectangular opening of the toy store. The crowd of shoppers scattered, running for their lives as the brick grew to fill the entire mall, right up to the door of Macy’s, where it stopped abruptly. In the stock room of Macy’s, there were tour bus-style cubby-bunks set up all the way to the ceilings; from the looks of things, everyone from the mall had been living there for some time. I looked behind me, but my best friend had gotten lost in the shuffle (she does this frequently). I waited for a bit, but eventually Real Estate Lady said, “she’s gone…go back to your bunk” and so I went back.

Then, the flood reached the store room. When things cleared, everyone had lost almost everything they had. It was chaos everywhere, as people sifted through soggy belongings and tried to find their kids. I looked around my cubby, and all I found was a shoe, an old wig, and some scraps of crown molding. Wait. Diah’s bunk. The one we shared to watch movies. The one we decorated with vintage carnival posters. Oh no…

I ran over to it, and everything was gone, flushed away. Amid the cries of lost children, quick flash memories ran through my head. I came to and started collected scraps of carnival posters from a wall where we’d painted art deco lettering. I took them back to my bunk where I boxed things up and waited for relief workers.

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