what's up?
Joshua Glasser (glasser@src.honeywell.com)
Fri, 5 Aug 88 08:59:24 CDT
i dreamed about the changing table. it was huge. a massive bright red and
white striped dresser with a large rectangular depression, carved from a
single huge tree that had been shaped and bent and painted to look exactly
like toothpaste piled two folds high on a toothbrush head. it cost $1500 at
the salvation army, and it was not returnable. i wouldn't have brought it
if it hadn't been exactly what lisa had wanted. you see, we had had a huge
drag down knockout tooth and nail fight over how i had been taking no
interest in the baby's imminent arrival, how nothing was ready, and how we
still had not gotten a changing table. she went on at great length
describing in exacting detail all the features of the perfect changing
table, and after writing everything down and giving me the list, she had
sent me off warning me about the consequences of coming back emptyhanded.
i looked and looked until i found the exact one, this one, and had brought
it. it was massive, requiring the assistance of four other people to put
it into the car. the axle gave out almost instantly, but not before all
four wheels had popped. the car was totalled. i said to myself, it was old,
and i went out and rented a truck, a large 2 ton flat bed circa '56, with a
large hood ornament of a naked woman kneeling, looking forward, arms
stretched out to the sides, with a griffin pearched on her shoulders, behind
her head. we got car complete with changing table loaded on the flat bed. i
drove home. lisa wasn't home. somehow i carried the changing table up to
the baby's room. i went down, left and returned the truck, and then walked
back home. a raging frothing with rabid bloodlust furious vicious snarling
lisa came rushing out of the house wielding a broken crockpot running
towards me. i paused, considering a retreat, but then decided that she was
only upset having broken a crockpot that she must have just purchased. when
she got up to me, she ripped half my face off, knocked me down, and
proceeded to hack at my chest, screaming how she had never in her entire
life ever seen something so ugly, and how she couldn't believe that i would
ever have paid $1500, and that i had better take it back. i told her that
we could repaint it if she didn't like the colour, but that the store
didn't take returns. then she got mad.
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