The $1,000 Traffic Ticket

I got a $1,000 traffic ticket. In my latest dumb dream, that is.

So there I was in my dream, driving down a highway, when some turd in an ugly boxy sedan swerved right in front of me just as I was exiting the road. Then the guy just hit his brakes and slowed down to about 1 mph on the exit ramp. I wasn't surprised, because this is how most people in North Carolina drive. No, I wasn't surprised, but I did get pissed. So I floored the gas pedal and sped around the guy on the shoulder.

The next thing I know, a highway patrolman is behind me with his lights on. I pulled over. He walked up to my car to lecture me like all highway patrolmen do. If I had to do it all over again, I might be a highway patrolman so I could talk to other grown-ups like they're 6 years old. I'd walk up to their windows and say in my most condescending voice, "And why were we speeding today?" And they'd look at me and say, "Because we felt like it, numbnuts. Nice hair."

So after he pulled me over, I rolled down my window. He looked down at me and said, "And why were we speeding today?"

"Because I felt like it, numbnuts. Nice hair."

Then he handed me a ticket for $1,000. And my first thought was, Crap. Jodi and I might have to sell some of our valuable property to pay for this ticket. I wonder how much we can get for all of our leftover Halloween candy. This is the kind of stuff that goes through your brain when you have stupid dreams like mine.

I thought perhaps we could get $300 or so for our leftover Halloween candy, because Jodi bought way more than we needed this year. 

Most years Jodi and I try to avoid Halloween altogether. We either go out for the evening, or we turn off all of the lights at home, sit in the dark, and ignore the doorbell. But this year we decided to do the Halloween thing. So we made Jodi's niece come over and hand out candy for us.

When Jodi and her niece started to pour bags of candy into a big bowl, I had to intervene. I had to. They were doing it wrong. I said, "Whoa, whoa, whoa! What are you doing? You don't put the good candy in first! You don't put Snickers and Reese's in right away! Don't you guys know anything? You gotta put in all the crappy candy first. You put in the Almond Joys and the Three Musketeers and those disgusting orange peanut things. Hell, when I was growing up, nobody even gave out normal candy bars. You always got stuff like stale popcorn balls with hair sticking out of 'em. You don't bring out the A-list candy unless it's absolutely necessary!"

I really did say all of that, because I'm all about the kids. And Jodi and her niece agreed, so we put the good candy aside. (Actually I would have given a Snickers to Gwyneth, the cutest kid in the world, but she didn't come by this year. And we did have one really cute kid in an elephant costume come to the door. He was worth a Snickers. But really the bulk of the kids who came by were just crappy orange peanut quality kids.)

Fortunately, it began to rain harder and harder as the evening progressed, and it wasn't long before the trick-or-treaters slowed to a trickle. So I said, "C'mon, let's close it down!" So I ran around switching off lights, and I grabbed the good candy and sprinted to the back of the house.

That's why we have $300 worth of leftover Halloween candy. And that's what was on my mind while I had my stupid dream about the $1,000 traffic ticket.

After the highway patrolman handed me the ticket, he made me follow him about a hundred yards to a tiny building on the side of the highway. Apparently this was some kind of ticket processing center. We walked into the building and some clerks began working on my traffic ticket, doing whatever traffic ticket clerks do. As I waited, the patrolman began giving me a big chamber-of-commerce-type presentation about the upcoming "Prairie Dog Days Festival," and he said I really should attend and support my community. Of course, I told him I'd attend. I mean, I had to. I wasn't gonna risk getting another $1,000 ticket, even though it doesn't make sense to have "Prairie Dog Days" in North Carolina, since there are no prairies or prairie dogs in this state. Just dog fights and Waffle Houses.

And while the patrolman is giving me this presentation, I look out the window behind him and there's a big 27-car pileup happening just yards away from the building. The patrol guy looks over his shoulder and sees the cars crashing and burning, but he just turns back to me and keeps talking about the "Prairie Dog Days Festival." And I was thinking, Man, I wish you would shut up so I could wake up and eat a Halloween Snickers for breakfast.

I told you I have stupid dreams.

Can you believe you wasted the last 5 minutes of your life reading this?

My American Idol Audition

God, I have stupid dreams.

So in this particular dream, Jodi and I are wandering around some kind of amusement park. That's when I first knew this was going to be a really stupid dream, because that's about the last place you would find me and Jodi. We can't stand amusement parks. Mainly because there are people at amusement parks. And neither one of us likes to be around lots of people, especially when they're having fun. If I ever decided to be a sniper, I'd probably climb up on top of the Matterhorn at Disneyland and have a field day picking off slow, overfed bovine families.

As we're walking around, we came across this sort of cave thingie. Inside they were having American Idol auditions, and it looked like they were just wrapping up for the day. So Jodi says, "Oooh! Get's go try out for American Idol!" And I said, "Yeah!"

I thought I heard once that in your dreams you were never supposed to do anything that you wouldn't normally do in real life. That's why none of this makes any sense. We would never go to an amusement park, and we would never try out for American Idol. We don't have simulated fun and we don't sing. I don't know how I can be any clearer.

Now, I will admit that we sometimes watch the show in the first few weeks of a new season, because we like to watch dumpy, acne-ridden redheaded freaks being told by the judges that they really have nothing to offer society. But then we generally stop watching once they get past the auditions, because the idea of our country's biggest musical stars being selected on a game show is just too stupid of a concept for us to handle. I can't fathom Jimi Hendrix performing on American Idol. I can't imagine John Bonham choking on his own vomit on stage while Randy Jackson says, "Dawg, it was just allright for me. There were some pitchy things going on there. It was just alright for me." And then Paula Abdul would say, "John, you take my breath away (tear). This wasn't your best performance, but you're just so magical." And then Simon Cowell would say, "John, it was a complete disaster (boooooo). No, it was. Let me finish. Let me finish. John, massive vomit chunks aside, I just think it was the wrong song choice for you. I would have much rather have seen you do a Neal Sedaka number or something from The Lion King." (Yes, I know Bonham was a drummer; just go with it.)

So we walk up to the table outside the cave thingie and we sign up as the last two contestants for the day.

We go inside the cave. But before getting to the area with the real judges, we first had to perform for three preliminary judges. These preliminary judges were some kind of midget monkey people species. We both sang. The midget monkey people judges didn't say anything, didn't move, didn't throw their feces at us. We took that as a good sign and we moved on to the next part of the cave where the real judges waited for us.

First, Jodi sang for them. I couldn't make out the song she was singing because she was kind of doing this weird, raspy whisper voice. Plus, she was mispronouncing some words and completely making up other words. It was like watching Jesse Jackson audition with laringitis.

The judges said, "Okay thanks," and Jodi walked off to the side in defeat and humiliation. Then it was my turn.

My performance was completely the opposite of Jodi's. I inhaled a bunch of air and then I sang/scream as loud as I could:

ALL THE LEAVES ARE BROWN! LEAVES ARE BROWN! LEAVES ARE BROWN! LEAVES ARE BROWN!

AND THE SKY IS GRAY! SKY IS GRAY! SKY IS GRAY! SKY IS GRAY!

I DON'T KNOW THE REST OF THE WOOOOOOOOOORDS!

BUT I'LL SING THIS ANYWAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!

All of the judges looked at me and said, "Fantastic! Absolutely remarkable!" Then they stood up, because I was the last contestant, and they walked off.

Instead of handing me a yellow piece of paper like they usually do, some assistant handed me two or three clipboards with a whole bunch of legal looking papers in all the colors of the rainbow, telling me that I now needed to fill them out.

As Jodi and I walked off, I said to her, "I'm not sure if I made it or not. They usually give you a yellow piece of paper. I'm not sure if I made it. I think I did, but I'm not sure."

And Jodi said, "Oh yeah, I think you made it alright. I think they put you in the senior division."

Then I woke up.