LUDIC LOG

Okay, let's get one thing straight. I'm talking to you now, and this is it. This is the last time, you got it? I don't want to be asked again. Everybody else may go along with it, but I think it's a pretty stupid fuckin' idea.

You want to know about me? You hang around with me all the time, you should know by now. But it's still early. Okay. So this one time, I'll tell you about the dream I had. That should be enough.

In the dream, I'm riding around in the back of a limo -- or not a limo, it's not one of those big ugly stupid black and white stretch jobs, it's just a big car like really rich people have. Like a Rolls Royce Silver Ghost or something. Very classy. I'm dressed up, this expensive Brooks Brothers suit like my brother wears all the time, but you can tell this one was cut just for me. I look at myself in a little mirror and I can see that I look good: hair slicked down nice and smooth, scars are all gone -- nice, you know?

Anyway, I'm sitting in the back watching the TV or something, and I'm drinking champagne, when the driver stops for a red light. And this other limo, this one is a black stretch, a showy Caddy, pulls alongside and the passenger motions for me to roll down my window. Yeah, right, just like in the commercial. So I watch a lot of television; who doesn't? Anyway, of course, the guy, who's really suave and rich-looking, asks me in a perfect East Coast snotty accent if I have any Grey Poupon.

Look, do you want me to tell this fuckin' story or not?

So I say, same snooty twang, "But of course." And I reach out to hand him this little tub of the stuff that was in the minibar, but instead of handing it to him, I just throw the fucker as hard as I can right at his face. When it hits him in the nose, his eyes well up and he can't see for a minute, and so I step out of the car and grab him by the lapel, and hit him really hard right across the jaw.

I start laughing like a maniac, and I get back in my car and motion to the driver (who I can now see is none other than Percy) to take off. We run right through the red light, both laughing now. But what I see now isn't me -- in the dream I don't follow me away in the car. I stay with this dumb fuck I just belted, and I watch him with his eyes stinging with tears and pain, and the big welt on his chin, and blood trickling out of his jaw, and he's confused as hell -- he doesn't know what's going on.

And when I woke up, this dream kind of disturbed me, right? I mean, it should, having that kind of dream. But I'll tell you this: I'm glad I stayed with the guy until the end of the dream. Seeing him like that, that was the best thing about it.

That's it. That's all you need.