Waking Up Late
© by Walter Reimer

Thumbnail by  marmelmm




It's a cliche of the worst sort to start a story with the main character, in this case me, waking up.

But that's how this story starts, so deal with it.

The trailer of the teaser reel started flapping as I opened my eyes, and the first thing I did when I could focus was to look at my bedside clock. Huh, six-thirty. "By my fay, a goodly nap," as the Bard might have said. Well, he wrote it in The Taming of the Shrew, but I don't mind borrowing it. I'd done a good morning's worth of yard work yesterday morning, and rewarded myself last night with a very tasty dinner at the local Thai restaurant.

So, physical exertion plus full belly equals sleeping in.

But the dream that had been running like a Tijuana one-reel wonder in the back of my head had me intrigued.

Why, in the Name of Bleeding Jesus and All His Martyred Saints, did I have a dream like that? I didn't know, but I knew someone who did.

I summoned the Muse, who appeared in the aspect of a considerably rumpled red fox vixen. She had bed head all over her body (she really needed to trim her fur; it's getting hot out there) and she rubbed sleep from her eyes as she asked, "Yeah? Whaddaya want?"

Wordlessly, I held up a still from the dream. "Explanation?"

She peered at it, and then the male rabbit sat back in his seat at the kitchen table and sipped at his coffee. "The Monkeys," the wolfess said in a thick German accent.

"So you're blaming this on the Monkeys."

She nodded.

"A My Little Pony-themed animated X-rated prison movie starring Rainbow Dash as the prison bitch."

"Yup."

Maybe I had eaten too much masaman curry last night for dinner. But it had been so gosh-darned good . . .




end