Baboon Pirates

Scribbles and Scrawls from an unrepentant swashbuckling primate.

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Location: Texas, United States

Tuesday, July 06, 2010

Brain Dumps

Bizarre Nocturnal Hallucinations

Sometimes I despair of ever knowing what really goes on up in my convoluted noodle.

Take last night, f'rinstance. It was one of those infrequent tossing & turning nights where I didn't really drop off to sleep until almost time to get up, but the REM activity that probably lasted all of 10 minutes seemed to go on for hours.

I know that dreams are just your brain taking a holiday, but I'd sure like to know where it gleans the material for the main attraction.

I find myself at a hotel somewhere. Can't really tell the location, but for some reason, the bathroom facilities are located off-premises.

OK, no big deal... It's probably a flashback to all the camping trips of my youth, where the shower/shitter was always 10 campsites down the trail. Off I go to take care of business.

I reach the facility, and it's a complete pigsty. Making matters worse, a buddy of mine from some years past has made his home there. His stuff is scattered everywhere, and he's not around. It's a ramshackle affair, kind of a cross between an open-air shower and a two-holer long-drop latrine.

I can't recall ever dreaming about dropping a deuce before, but for some reason, it was craptime in Dreamland. I'm SO glad I didn't wake up and find a little brown buddy lying beside me!

The crapper is this weird stainless steel job, & very tiny. Reminded me of those little dentist spit-sinks. It's mounted on a tall shelf, and it's a PITA to get my ass centered in order to take care of business. The flusher mechanism is kind of like one of those ratcheting lawn sprinklers, washing down the bowl and half the bathroom, explaining a lot about what a shithole the place is.

About the time I'm figuring out the shower, I realize I have no towel or clean clothes, just the skivvies and T-shirt I've got on. I'm about to jump under the shower when there's this loud ruckus outside.

Looking out the window that has appeared in one wall, there's a horde of Mexican bandidos outside. Real 'Treasure of the Sierra Madre' bandolier & sombrero wearin' "We don' need no steenkin' badges!" sayin' bandidos.

They seem very upset that my friend is not there. Apparently he's got them buffaloed into thinking he's some sort of holy man/witch doctor kinda deal, and while they're PO'ed that he's absent, they seem disinclined to make trouble due to the place being his home.

I offer them the contents of the barn. Don't all good bathrooms have an attached barn? In dreamland they do! They feed their horses some hay & grain, and take off. I resume trying to figure out the shower, which seems to use something akin to a diesel generator to power the water pump.

About the time I get the water flowing, I'm woken up by my next-door neighbor banging on something out in the front yard, and of course I've overslept by 45 minutes.

I can't even blame this extreme weirdness on late-night pizza! I ain't had a slice in months!

Feel free to interpret, Dr. Fraud...