Le Clown asked me to write “something funny” for his blog, because his back hurts and he’s a big baby clown on bed rest and Dilauded. I thought clowns were supposed to have bones made out of balloon animals and breathed helium and shat glittery gumdrops and rode unicorns? Boy, was I wrong. Apparently, clowns are flesh and bone, and when their backs hurt, they need more than Skittles to make them all better. Again, My Life Of Disillusionment.
I’m going to tell you about the crazy fucking dream I had last night.
It was all thick oily blues like being underwater…it was like being in a wet painting and i just kept dragging through it, getting lighter and lighter until I surfaced where is was all yellow and airy.
Suddenly, I was eating a hotdog at Fenway park with James Earl Jones. Then, Pad Mei died while giving birth to our twins, Luke and Leia. Right at the end, I was a werewolf running through the streets of London but oddly humming to myself the following song… “I’m a pepper, you’re a pepper, she’s a pepper, we’re a pepper… Wouldn’t you like to be a pepper too…..”
Next thing you know, I was Meredith Baxter Birney and I was carrying 427 red balloons, and then my arms fell off and flew away with the balloons and I just stood there watching them. I then log-rolled down a steep hill into a ravine filled with stuffed unicorn embryos. I ate as many as I could before Willard Scott carried me off into the sunset, on his Segway.
I was greeted in a grassy field by Elaine from Taxi finally wearing a bra and making a rotisserie chicken in the Set It And Forget It Oven. Then Adam Ant yells at us from across the infomercial stage “don’t drink, don’t smoke… What do you do?” and I was instantly on the transporter platform of the USS enterprise while wearing Sergio Valente jeans and Bert Jones jersey. Dr. McCoy, who is actually Whoopi Goldberg from Ghost, reads my palm and calls me Sam Wheat.
Finally, I ran into Dick Van Patten who was wearing a Tapout hoodie and jeans with white stitching, he told me that eight wasn’t really enough, so I high-fived him, in the face. Suddenly, Morley Safer sits me down and starts configuring my hair into a Topsy Tail™ while I sing Love The One You’re With 37 times then we hug for a really long time and I look down and realize that I don’t have pants on and Howie Mandel is squirting me with hand sanitizer.
And Le Clown is the one on Dilaudid?
If anyone would like to take a stab at analyzing this dream, I will happily brew myself a pot of very strong coffee and soak in your analytical takes, while Le Clown reorganizes his spine.