Neanderpundit

Sold the zuke to Ed so he’d have a normal size motorcycle to ride; I feared someone I knew would see him riding around on his little dirt bike, and he’d be the laughingstock of morningside heights.

Fact is I never got it running right, and told ed if he could do so, it would make a good bike for him; we eventually discovered there was a sort of a check valve missing, he bought a suitable substitute at an auto parts store for $5 and drove it on down the road. Good for him. I may even still get to drive it, which will be more fun now that it RUNS.

The cost benefit analysis was against me ever buying a $92 petcock for this one, that was for sure, and now that Ed has it he can play to his hearts content; he certainly grinned like a kid on Christmas. it made me happy to have him happy, and it made me happy to be able to get the shed space back. I know he’ll be careful.

But then, my dreams are.

Fact is, I dreampt about going to church- but not the church we normally go to. Somehow it was a scaled-up version of the church I went to when I was a kid, and the bishop was saying mass. It wasn’t the bishop of our diocese, it was the bishop of Toronto, Thomas Christopher Collins. I don’t know why I would dream of a bishop named after a drink, but there you are. Anyway, his crosier was made of a buttload of Craftsman 1/2″ drive ratchet extensions snapped together, and occasionallyhe would slap it against his hand like a sap, and it would clink loudly.

He wasn’t wearing a miter, either. he did have the traditional Zuchetto on, but when the bishop traditionally puts on the Miter, he instead donned a cork hat. During the offertory, the choir sang Walzing Matilda until he yelled at them to stop. Then they switched over to singing “Another night” and his Excellency Tom Collins started tuning them up with his Craftsman Crosier.

For some reason I had a T bone steak, and I gnawed away at it until it was just the bone, and then the bone turned into a Luger. I was gonna shoot the bishop, but the Oglet said “You’ll miss. Give me that!” so I did, and she dropped him like a bad habit. I thought we were going to have to shoot our way out, but the whole congregation started singing “Ding Dong, the witch is dead” and carried the still armed oglet out of the church on their shoulders.

I have no recollection of eating anything unusual.