Sunday, March 12, 2006

A Nightmare in the Key of Blonde

Sometimes Latigo Flint has that dream where he's dying in the dirt at the feet of a smirking girl. Then Latigo Flint's stomach bloats in the sun and porcupines tear it open to feed.

For some reason this dream tends to make Latigo Flint uneasy.

Latigo Flint always wakes up to find all the items on the nightstand smashed and bloody wedges from his neck and chest, lodged beneath his fingernails. Falling back asleep usually requires at least a bottle and a half of whiskey--or in a pinch, self-asphyxiation, if there's no whiskey to be had.

In real life, if you know you're about to die in the wilderness and you'd prefer that porcupines didn't tear open your bloated stomach to feed, it's important to remember to rub yourself down with wolf urine--porcupines always head the other way when they catch a whiff of wolf urine. But in dreams you never really know how the scent of wolf urine is going to affect porcupines. Their response is unpredictable and may change several times.

But the girl's response never changes--she's always happy to see Latigo Flint die, and only smirks harder when the porcupines dig in.

12 Comments:

At 10:42 PM, Blogger Peter said...

That miserable wench Latigo, no doubt in training as a Barista at Starbucks.

 
At 6:26 AM, Blogger Monkeypotpie said...

Wolf urine? Okay, that may scare away the porcupines...but won't it attract wolves?

Truth be told, I'd rather be set upon by porcupines than wolves. But that's just me.

 
At 8:04 AM, Blogger Mary Lewys said...

Bristling, having emotional walls up, being stand-offish or brash, hiding behind bravado. To dream of a porcupine usually means that these qualities are advantageous for you to have right now. Occasionally, a porcupine in a dream means that you'd benefit by having less of these qualities right now. A dream porcupine can also represent a person who you feel is showing these qualities.

What are you hiding, Latigo?

 
At 10:18 AM, Blogger Ari said...

But porcupines are herbivorous, preferring tree bark.

(Or maybe I need the suspension on my disbelief checked.)

 
At 11:42 AM, Blogger Trevor Record said...

Women always seem sexier when they revel in another's pain. Or maybe that's just me. I hope I didn't just reveal something incredibly dark and deviant about myself.

 
At 12:58 PM, Blogger Ghost Dog said...

I thought smirking-at-your-demise-in-a-dream girl was a redhead...

 
At 1:57 PM, Blogger Lance Manion said...

You know, like Ghost Dog, I also thought the smirking girl was a redhead. And not just because I like redheads.

 
At 1:58 PM, Blogger hen said...

It was probably that damn Irish girl - someone should do something about her!

 
At 3:00 PM, Blogger Amandarama said...

Who is this smirking blonde vixen? I'll have her killed. Or, at the very least, I'll kick her in the shin. I'm good at that.

 
At 8:03 PM, Blogger Francis Marion Tarwater said...

And they said I'd never learn anything from reading this blog.

 
At 12:41 AM, Blogger Latigo Flint said...

No doubt Peter, and a fine one she'll make.

Perhaps you haven't thought it fully through Monkeypotpie. Wolves know how to quickly and painlessly finish the job the elements began. Porcupines on the other hand...

Thank you very much, I'm touched you'd research this for me. But I promise you Mary Lewys, you don't want to know.

Oh fine Ari, I guess you just know everything there is to know about porcupines, huh? Well go ahead then, pull up your shirt and lie in the dirt near their den for a while. Just don't say I didn't warn you.

I could talk for hours, Trevor Record, about how different my emotional reaction would be to having a woman cut throat cut my throat vs. a man. But I'm certainly not going to discuss it with you... sicko.

You win the spectacular memory prize Ghost Dog. But you must realize we're talking about two different dreams here. The Irish girl somehow outdraws me, shoots me in the gut and smirks and giggles as I die. This blond watches porcupines tear my stomach open to feed and smirks... not the same at all you see.

Who doesn't Lance, my friend. Please see the above response.

I guess it might have been the Irish girl in a wig, Hen, I hadn't considered that until just now.

I don't know who she is Amandarama. Hell, for all I know she's you. (That's pretty deep, huh? Now kick yourself in the shin.)

I'm a veritable cistern of information Solace Layfield. Thank you for noticing.

 
At 10:06 AM, Blogger Lightning Bug's Butt said...

Too bad you couldn't feed the girl to the porcupines.

 

Post a Comment

<< Home