Tuesday, August 2, 2011

A mouse under my hat...or was it just a dream?

I dreamed that I was walking in Walmart with a field mouse hidden under my hat. I was working undercover for the Immigration Department.

I was on a secret mission to stop the Chinese government from selling baby goats as weed-eaters. I was also looking for some new shoes. I wanted something more fashionable than the sequined flip flops I had been wearing. I was looking for shoes with style and comfort, but not too concerned with flashiness or sparkly stuff. Anyway, back to the mission...

Walmart wanted to buy the baby goats until I told them that importing baby goats to use as weed-eaters was illegal. I showed them my badge and kept hoping the mouse wouldn't fall out from under my hat.

They promised not to buy any Chinese goats. I had them sign some papers and then I left.

As I walked away I looked down at the papers and they had some scribbling on them that I couldn't read. Nothing else just scribbling.

The Walmart guys tricked me.

I went home to a small house. The roof was full of fat guys that were speaking only in French.

They were wearing sweatsuits and berets.

I asked them why they were on my roof but they just said "croissants."

Then they started jumping up and down and shouting "croissants, croissants!", over and over.

I was afraid they would collapse my roof and I yelled at them but they could not understand me.

I went inside and found that my refrigerator was empty... except for a bag of croissants. I put the croissants under my coat and quickly went out the back door.

I heard the fat guys yelling something so I started running. I could hear them behind me yelling something angrily in French. I think they were mad because I had taken the croissants.

I kept running and their voices slowly faded into the distance.

I ran until I couldn't run any farther. ...and then I woke up in my living room ...out of breath and laying on my back.

I had nothing on but one shoe and a black sock and there was an empty croissant bag on my stomach.

I reached up to check my hat. My hat and mouse were gone. I thought the French guys must have taken them. I felt I should call the police then I realized it was just a dream. I don't know who ate the croissants, but it wasn't me.

For some reason, I liked the mouse under my hat, and I missed him.

I clutched the croissant bag to my chest and began to cry.

When I had recovered I stood up straight and tall and bravely said, "I salute you little mouse, wherever you are."

Then I put the croissant bag on my head, saluted smartly and marched around my living room, holding back the tears and vowing to find the frenchmen.

Barney Doodle

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