You know this couple.
You’ve been there.
Up in the middle of the night:
Weird dreams, weird conversations, weird food affects.
Damn It: It’s Probably the Chili Peppers
“I’ve seen her before….”
“Honey, it’s late. You’ve been dreaming”
“Mary, I’ve seen her somewhere. It was like a scene out of ‘Rebel without a Cause.’”
“Wow, George. Now you’re all the way back in time. You’ve been dreaming.”
“Maybe it was something from ‘Grease.’”
“Now you’re going back to Greece?”
“No, the movie ‘Grease.’ Maybe Stephen King-ish. It was very macabre.”
“Macabre? That was a 1958 movie with a kid who was buried alive…”
“That was macabre. No, this kid was like a possessed suicidal girl-child.”
“Just go to sleep, George.”
“She looked like she had odd powers, What were they called? Ymbranes, or something, from ‘Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children.’”
“Okay. Now I’ve really had enough George. Please… take some Tum’s. It’s probably the hot chili peppers from the Mexican food we ate. And try not to snore when you come back to bed.”
“I’d like to write an epithet for the image.”
“I’M GOING TO WRITE YOUR EPITAPH IF YOU DON’T SHUT UP.”
“Oh, my Mary merry mime. Lighten up… maybe write a sobriquet.”
“Here’s one. George the Damned.”
“That’s it! Children of the Damned!”
Randy Mazie
The Writer's Village 