I Dreamed That Los Angeles was Burning...

I dreamed that Los Angeles was burning, orange fire and black nuclear days having erased it from the cynical heart of California. 

One hundred miles down the road I was sheltering with the one person I loved and the childhood shades of three people I wouldn’t want to spend a brief, bleak eternity with.  The sky was dark as a winter’s midnight and set a-sparkle with bright yellow atomic rain falling sure and steady.

I didn’t care what happened…the why wasn’t relevant…and I didn’t feel panic…when the world was over there’s no point in losing your head, after all. 

That REM song was playing everywhere, gallows irony set to a jaunty beat, and I kept trying to sing along even as I drifted through the house wondering when the pale horse was going to arrive. 

I thought about confessing my sins.  I thought about laughing at the sheer stupidity of the world and the way it was ending.  I thought about carrying one of the people I didn’t want to spend our brief, bleak eternity with off to bed and having angry, bittersweet sex until the yellow rain put us all out of our misery.  I thought about not ever really being who I always imagined myself to be.

I dreamed that Los Angeles was burning…

Dirty Laundry

I dreamt that I woke up (yeah, I know…just go with it) and heard a raucous commotion in the outer room. Walking out of the bedroom I found my dirty clothes hamper had been dumped out onto the living room floor and Jerry Springer, Montel Williams, Judge Judy, and Maury Povich were furiously digging through my dirty laundry looking for…well actually, I didn’t know what they were looking for.

“A bit on the nose, isn’t it, folks?” I said as sardonically as I could so soon after waking up.

All four of them sprang up and surrounded me. “Laugh it up, buster,” Judge Judy snarled poking my chest with her bony finger, “but when I find the goods on you I’m going to drag your no-good butt into court and let you have it! Just you wait!”

“Ooo-kay,” I said trying to take a step back from the spray of righteously indignant spittle coming from her thin, angry lips.

Maury Povich spun me around and brought his face so close to mine that I could almost taste the turkey sandwich he had for lunch. “There’s a 99.730017792% chance that you’re the father and I’m gonna find the proof!”

Before I could reply to that, Montel Williams spun me around. “My psychic will tell me everything I want to know about you, buddy. Prepare to be smacked down on national television!”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him that nobody watched his show any more.

Jerry Springer nudged me and bent close. “Look, if you’re cheating with your alcoholic midget nympho half-cousin who’s pregnant with your priest’s love child, I can make you a star.”

I nodded warily. “Thanks, Jerry, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Do you know what you want?” Judge Judy demanded.

“I want you all to go away…?”

“No!” Montel bellowed. “You want to be on television!”

“Why?”

“BECAUSE EVERYBODY WANTS TO BE ON TELEVISION!” they all shouted as one.

“And if you’re not gonna fess us, then we’re going to keep going through you dirty laundry until we find something,” Maury said portentously.

I backed slowly out of the room as the four of them leapt back into the pile of sweaty t-shirts and used BVDs. “Yeah, good luck with that,” I said softly not wanting to upset them again. “Lock the door when you go.”

Jerry, Montel, Judy, and Maury ignored me as they clawed at different pieces of my soiled clothing.

“Eww, what’s that?” I heard Judy ask as I ambled back into my bedroom.

“I’m not sure,” I heard Jerry reply with no small amount of concern in his voice, “but I hope to God that it’s chocolate…”

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