He tilted his head slightly and listened more intently at the top of the stairs.
I should go back and get the gun out of the bedside table. It could be a burglar, or... or maybe something worse. No, it's the dream that's got me all freaked out and hearing things; that's all.
But as he stood at the top of the stairs listening intently there were no more mysterious sly sounds below. The longer he stood the sillier he felt. After a few more seconds of listening, he shook his head and started downstairs.
The aquarium light in the den provided enough illumination for him to work his way through the room without tripping over any of the furniture. Then he realized the mysterious sly sound could easily have been the pump for the fish tank. He chuckled and shook his head at his own goofiness, before entering the kitchen and flipping on the overhead light switch.
A giant six foot high pink bunny rabbit with very long ears and whiskers looked up in alarm from where it was sitting at the kitchen table chewing at a head of lettuce, but that wasn't the most unusual thing he noticed; although it was most certainly not typical. A trio of pigs and a wolf, that all looked oddly familiar, quickly faded from view until they were nothing more substantial than a hint of an outline that then also disappeared.
Yet the pink rabbit remained and looked at him. The initial look of alarm was replaced with a hint of a smile.
The man stared in wonder and tried to convince himself he was still dreaming until the rabbit spoke up. “Yeah, buddy, you're dreaming. You should go upstairs and go back to sleep.”
The man nodded and started to turn away then looked doubtful and asked, “If I'm dreaming how can I go back to sleep?”
The rabbit sighed and shook its head so that its long ears flopped back and forth before saying, “Alright, smart guy, you're awake. Does that make you feel better about the situation?”
The man shook his head no while moving over toward the butcher block full of steak knives.
“You're not actually contemplating taking a knife and stabbing a giant talking pink rabbit sitting in your kitchen at almost three in the morning, are you?
What did I ever do to you? I'm just sitting here waiting my turn and eating some lettuce. And your first impulse is to stab me? Really? No wonder your wife left you,” the rabbit said and wiggled its nose, before taking another bite of lettuce.
“Where did the pigs and wolf go?”
“Oh, you saw them too. That just makes things even curiouser. They went upstairs, to play with Katie.”
“What!?”
“Shush, don't get all crazy and wake the kids. She invited them to come after you read that bedtime story earlier, so you've got no one to blame but yourself. Let the kids have some fun. They've had things at least as rough as you have since their mother, your wife, ran off. Plus, you getting drunk almost every night hasn't been any easier on them.”
“You and the others are... what? Dream characters?”
“Well, 'Dr. Freud', what do you think? Is there another possibility why three little pigs and a goofy looking wolf, not to mention a talking six foot tall pink rabbit, would be hanging around in your kitchen?”
“Insanity? I've finally snapped from the stress and... and I don't know... gone nuts or something.”
The rabbit looked at the ceiling and one of its long ears straightened up a little, before its head shook. “Sorry, thought she was ready for me. She's really nuts over those colorful magical talking ponies, isn't she?”
“Ashley. Yeah she has all the DVD's and toys...” the man said, then shook his head saying, “Wait, wait, wait a minute. I thought dreams just come from people's subconscious mind. So, why are you guys here in my kitchen.”
“Dreams are funny things. None of you really understands how they work or why people have them.”
“What are you?”
The rabbit took another bite of lettuce and asked, “Could I have a glass of water, please?”
He gaped at the rabbit and the rabbit gaped right back as its ears twirled comically around its head. The confused man went to the cupboard and got a glass, filled it with water at the sink and turned around; certain the pink rabbit would be gone. But it wasn't.
It picked up the glass in both paws and drank from it then smiled.
The man looked terribly confused for a few seconds before asking, “Why can I see you and the pigs and wolf?”
“I'm not trained in psychiatry, psychology, or anything like that. I'm just a big pink bunny rabbit. And if your daughter ever gets done messing around with magic ponies I'll most likely fade from your view like the pigs and wolf did. But, if you'd like me to, I could wait outside.”
The man shook his head. “Do you know why I can see and hear you or not?”
“You had a pretty traumatic nightmare a while ago, right?” The rabbit asked and tugged gently at the whiskers on the right side of its face.
The man nodded and shuddered. He could still clearly remember nearly everything about it, which in and of itself was odd. Usually, his dreams tended to drift apart and become muddled after just a few minutes.
The rabbit stood up and went to the cupboard where all the prescription drugs were kept, safely out of the girls reach. It reached a paw inside and brought one bottle out. It brought the bottle close up to its enormous pink eyes. “This is a new drug, isn't it?”
It saw the man nod and read the warning label, “May cause intense hallucinations and or dreams. Do not operate heavy machinery. Do not combine with alcohol, blah blah, blah. Take one tablet at bedtime.”
“So?”
Setting the bottle on the counter, the rabbit said, “I wouldn't take any more of these pills, if I were you.”
“But my friend that runs the pharmaceutical testing lab at work said they'd help me sleep. I've been dealing with a lot of shit since my wife left.”
The rabbit lifted his ear again and stared up at the ceiling while saying, “I hear the ponies prancing off. I gotta go soon. My guess is your subconscious is still running a good part of your brain right now, down here in your kitchen.
The subconscious and conscious minds are like Ying and Yang. They're not supposed to operate at the same time. I think that's why you saw me, the wolf and the pigs.”
“Does that mean I could see my wife again, here, tonight, right here in my house? And maybe have a whole parade of horny phantasm guys in my kitchen?”
The rabbit nodded sadly and slowly started fading away. “Your conscious mind might hold her off, but I wouldn't wanna chance it if I were you. She seems like a bitch to me. Like I said, toss the pills and maybe lay off the booze. Your kids need a good dad. That's my advice anyway.”
When the rabbit was completely gone from view, the man walked over and looked at the bottle of capsules briefly before tossing them in the trash. His mind rebelled at taking advice from a giant pink bunny, but as he wandered back toward the stairs he realized the dream of being pushed out the window at work and his wife being used by hundreds of men had been something uniquely different than the other nightmares he'd been suffering from over the last few weeks. They had all been bad enough but his latest dream was the worst he'd ever had and the most realistic feeling.
Peanut was snoring soundly as he sat back down on his side of the bed. He lied down and pulled the blankets up but didn't close his eyes. Turning his head he saw the bedside clock had 3:00 on its display.
Giant pink talking bunnies in my kitchen? Hmm. Okay, let's say it was right. Just before I went to bed all I could think about was Danielle and all the men she was probably fucking. So, if I concentrate on... flowers or colorful ponies will that keep her out? He wondered.
Lying on his side, he stared at the red numbers on his clock slowly advancing. He was tired and wanted to go back to sleep but was afraid.
They say if you die in your dreams you could die in reality, but I'm still alive. So what the hell does that mean? Does it mean anything? He rolled over so he could no longer see the clock, thinking, God, I'm so tired.
>
He jerked himself awake several times feeling as if he were falling before slipping once more into unconsciousness.
The roar of an engine was the first thing he was aware of. He opened his eyes and found himself curled up in the backseat of a car. Thumping heavy bass music was playing on the stereo and there were sounds of soft moaning coming from somewhere nearby. He could see the flash of headlights on the car's ceiling and struggled to sit up.
A man was behind the steering wheel. He looked like a punk in the man's opinion. The driver seemed young, maybe in his early twenties and had long greasy hair and a nose stud connected to a chain that went up to his ear, where another stud was located. He was sure he'd never met the young man before but something tugged at his memory. It took a few more seconds to realize what it was. He was in the back seat of his ex wife's car; the very car he'd bought for her a year earlier. But, where's Danielle?
He was sitting in the back behind the passenger seat and leaned forward to look into the front. Then he found his wife. She was leaning over with her face buried in the lap of the scurvy looking young man that was moaning happily.
Well, this is certainly a different kind of dream, he realized with a disgusted look on his face that gradually shifted to a slight smile. The sounds of lips smacking coming from the stranger's lap and moans gave him a wicked idea. He waited until the moaning sounds increased and struggled to keep from giggling.
Looking out the window as he waited, they passed the high end shopping mall on the far side of town where Danielle had recently leased an apartment. The details of the dream seemed remarkably realistic as they sped past a semi-tractor trailer parked on the side of the interstate. The car was going almost thirty miles over the posted speed limit and the driver's eyes were barely open as his rate of moaning started increasing.
He peered over into the front seat and saw his ex wife's head bobbing up and down faster.
Any second now, he thought with a grin and took a deep breath.
The road started a slow curve and as he prepared to lean all the way into the front area of the car and yell, when from the backseat he saw a faint outline of a tall pink rabbit standing on the side of the road. It was waving to him in a friendly way and had a big smile on its face as the car started into the curve.
A few hundred feet ahead there was a row of reflective orange construction barrels and he heard the young man starting to groan louder as his body shuddered.
Leaning forward into the front seat, he yelled, “What the fuck are you doing with my wife!”
The driver's eyes opened wide as he turned to look back at him. Then the driver screamed as his ex wife's teeth chomped down out of fear and shock at hearing her ex husband's voice.
The car hit the first few barrels and began sliding off the road into the median as Danielle managed to sit up in the front seat. Her face was coated in blood as well as other bodily fluids as she glared into the backseat.
The car rolled over on its side and sparks filled the air as a horrible metallic screeching sound replaced the partially neutered driver's screams before it slid down into the river.
He could see the burning hatred in her eyes as he laughed uproariously from the backseat. When the frigid waters began rapidly filling the car she looked utterly confused as her grinning ex husband faded from view.
“You're a nasty excuse for a woman. I never realized it before, but now I'm glad you left. I just wish this wasn't a dream,” he said before fading completely.
He awoke to the sounds of arguing coming from downstairs. Opening one eye, he saw sunlight leaking in around the sides of the curtains and yawned. The bedside clock informed him it was seven in the morning. He sat up on the edge of the bed with a goofy grin on his face.
Standing up, he slid on his robe and ambled out into the hallway and then downstairs.
When he entered the kitchen his daughters were still bickering.
“Baxter said so, that's how I know!” Ashley said, with both hands placed on her hips.
“Uh huh, sure he did. Besides, dreams don't mean anything, you doofus.” Katie retorted and dug her spoon into the bowl of cereal in front of her.
“Morning, ladies,” their daddy said in a cheerful way, as he crossed over to the coffee pot.
Both girls looked at him nervously. For the last few weeks he'd been very grumpy in the morning and they weren't certain what to make of a daddy that was in a good mood.
“What shall we do today? It's Saturday, so I was thinking maybe we'd go to the zoo and then go for pizza. How does that sound?”
Katie smiled and seemed to like the suggestion, but Ashley appeared much less excited at the prospect. She seemed upset about something.
As he poured a cup of coffee, he was about to ask what was wrong but then the phone rang. Crossing the kitchen to answer it, he heard Ashley saying softly to her sister, “Bet you it's the cops. He said they'd call.”
“Shut up, just because a dumb dream bunny tells you something bad happened, that doesn’t mean it's true,” her sister responded angrily.
Before reaching the phone, he saw the prescription pill bottle in the trashcan and turned to look where the rabbit had been sitting at the kitchen table. As the phone continued to ring, he saw nothing to indicate a giant pink bunny had been there.
He lifted up the phone as Peanut wandered into the kitchen.
“Hello,” he said feeling slightly better, before the dog dropped a piece of wilted looking lettuce at his feet.
“This is Sergeant Palmer of the South Precinct. I'm afraid there's been an accident.”
###
Disgusting Campfire Tales
An owl swooped down out of the dark woods and landed on a lightning scarred branch of one of the oldest trees for miles around. It wasn’t the tallest oak in the forest but the owl considered it home. The still warm torn and bloody squirrel carcass was clutched in the bird’s talons as it swiveled its head and peered down from the branch. A bright light burned a few hundred feet away and the smell of smoke was even harder to miss. The owl remained motionless and watchful for several long seconds before it felt safe enough to begin eating its dinner.
A few hundred feet away from the feasting bird a campfire was crackling brightly as the four men ate hot dogs, chili, and a few other things they’d brought along. No one said much. There was an underlying foul mood present that made the oldest member of the hunting party feel sorry he'd agreed to organize and lead the expedition.
Sherman had agreed to take his son's friends to one of his favorite stomping grounds in search of deer, but most of the young men appeared both bored and disgusted with the expedition. They'd been hunting all day and had two more days in which to find something to shoot. There had been signs of deer but only signs, so far. Sherman had hoped to have fresh venison for dinner, but as he chewed the somewhat burnt hotdog he smiled and gave his son a wink.
He then looked at his son's teenage friends and wondered why he'd ever agreed to take the trio of green horns out hunting in the first place. But then as he looked at his boy again, he knew it was the only thing Peter had asked for to celebrate his sixteenth birthday; a hunting trip with his pals. Sherman stood up and went to get something from his tent.
When he was out of earshot, John looked at the birthday boy and whispered, “Hey Pete, no offense but your birthday sucks ass.”
Peter nodded and whispered, “Yeah, but we'll find some deer tomorrow. Besides, you gotta admit it's nice to be out here just goofing off.”
“Nope, I don't have to admit that at all, not even for a second,” Michael said from where he sat in one of the folding chairs and continued tapping on his laptop keyboard.
“I still can't believe you brought that damn thing out here. You're the only guy I've ever heard of that would do homework while on a hunting trip,” Peter said, shaking his head.
“Wish I'd brought mine along. This thing blows. Think we could call the trip quits tomorrow? I don't know shit about hunting, anyway,” John
said and spit in the fire.
Sherman came back, set down the cooler beside his folding chair, saying, “That's fine by me. We could be home by noon tomorrow. Besides, I think I know why there's no deer out here.”
He opened the cooler, pulled out a can of beer and popped the top. Taking a long swig, the middle-aged man looked up at the stars visible through the bare tree branches.
Michael saved his book report file and shut down the laptop, before asking, “Why do you think there's no deer?” while trying not to enviously stare at the can of beer.
“I'd tell you, but you guys wouldn't believe me,” Sherman said, finished his beer and reached for another, while winking at his son in a way the other boys couldn't see before asking, “Any of you young men want a beer?”
His son and John both readily accepted the offer, but Michael only shook his head.
“What’s wrong sonny, wrong brand?”
“No sir, it’s just that we're not really old enough to drink,” Michael said while ignoring his friends disbelieving looks of disgust.
“Well, sonny, while I respect that belief you have, I just don't happen to believe it. Nope, not even for a second. Are you going to sit there and honestly tell me you've never drank a beer before?”
Peter and John laughed because they both knew their friend was no stranger to alcohol. Michael only shrugged and muttered under his breath.
Sherman smiled with a touch of sadness in his face before clearing his throat and saying, “You guys never met my dad. By the time he was about your age he'd lied about how old he was, joined the army, fought the Nazi fuckers all the way up through Italy and earned a slew of medals for being one heroically tough son of a bitch.
It honestly pains me to see young men like yourselves buying into the political correct crap that says you ain't old enough to drink a frigging beer.” He saw his son rolling his eyes and nodded his head before continuing. “I know my son gets tired of hearing me bitch about society and how it keeps changing for the worse, but it’s true.