Pardon me Madam, but there are bees in your Fasces.


August 14, 2009 by sandwichcontrol

Yesterday was exhausting. I had told Le Duke that I would finish glazing a set of pots before I left work and it took me until almost 7:00pm to do so. Exhausting as it was, the day was littered with gems. Like “The Greatest Porn Ever”(not work safe) compliments of Dave, via Jackie the Mick, via the SA forums. Man, does she love cream of wheat or what? Pancake Land and I agreed that we would never be able to look at cream of wheat the same again. It has been forever altered in our minds. When Pancake Land came to bed this morning, I was asleep. I have a tendency to wake up a little when she comes to bed and this morning was no different. When she got into bed, as always, she gave me a kiss and her hair brushed against my face. When her hair brushed against my face it startled me and I informed her, keep in mind that I am not actually awake, that she had bees in her hair. She and I have this game that we play called “The Crazy Eye” where one person is asleep and says something and the other person coaxes as much information pertaining to that subject as possible out of the sleeping person. Typically it is nonsensical streams of words like mudboots squid eyes hamburger pony bottom. But, on rare occasions, you’ll get to have a conversation. So, I informed her that she had bees in her hair and that I did not appreciate having said bee-infested hair touch my face. She asked me what kind of bees were in her hair and I informed her that they were Fascist bees. I then went on to lecture her on the origins of Fascism and the etymology of the word Fascist. At some point during the lecture that I was giving on Fascism I noticed that I was not wearing my watch. It is a very strange thing for me not to wear my watch to bed. I wear it to bed so that I can see what time it is when I wake up in the middle of the night and it comforts me by telling me that I can sleep a few more hours before the dog-bird-alarm clock racket will force me out of bed and into the day. You may be asking “Why don’t you just look at the alarm clock to tell you what time it is in the middle of the night?” and I’ll tell you why. It is because the alarm clock is across the room as far the bed as possible. If the clock is within arms reach of the bed, I, in my “Crazy Eyed” state, will snooze the Hell out of the alarm clock. This way, when the alarm goes off, I have to walk all the way across the room to snooze it, which you can only do about three times before you become too alert to go back to sleep. Anyway, I notice that I am not wearing my watch. An awake, rational me would have remembered that I had taken it off earlier in the evening and forgot to put it back on. The “Crazy Eyed” me came to the conclusion that Pancake Land had stolen my watch whilst I was distracted by the Fascist bees and had sold my watch to Gypsies. Not the kind of Gypsies of the variety seen in The Pied Piper of Hutzovina with their extreme poverty and amazing sense of community and spirit of music, but more of the cartoon Hunchback of Notre Dame version with the flowing scarves and the tambourines. At this point, I could take P.L.’s cruelty no longer and I got out of bed and headed for the bathroom to make a pee-pee. As I was returning from the bathroom I discovered that my loyal and trusted Gypsy friends had returned my watch to me and placed it on my desk without bothering to ask for their money back. Ah, friendship. I put my watch back on, crawled back into bed, snuggled up to Pancake Land, and fell back into the deepest of sleeps forgetting that I was mere inches away from a whole colony of Fascist bees. More soon. ~SC


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