Talk to me baby
Everyone has certain tricks – wiggling their ears, burping the alphabet, something that makes them unique and strange.
Me? I talk to sleeping people.
I don’t know if it’s the timbre of my voice, or that I’ve honed the exact right amount of questioning that should go into a conversation, but give me someone in blissful slumber and I can give you an interesting dialogue.
Me: Honey, is there anything I can get you?
ST: Money.
Me: Money? Why do you want money from me?
ST: I need fifty cents for milk.
(ST hates drinking milk unless it’s a newly opened carton. He drinks chocolate or soy.)
Me: Where do you get milk?
ST: Everyday.
Me: No, WHERE? Do you get milk at work?
ST: Kindergarten.
(Pause for my laughter.)
Me: Kindergarten?
ST: It’s retro.
(Pause for me to try and ascertain if he’s truly asleep or fucking with me. Asleep.)
Me: I was thinking of giving you sex, but if you want fifty cents for milk…
ST: I’ll take the sex.
Me: Then how will you get your milk?
ST: Through the Internet.
Me: How will you get milk through the Internet?
ST: The INTERNET.
Me: No, HOW?
ST: Through a big pipe line.
There you go people. Internets got milk?
Shortly after this conversation, I yelled at the dog for drinking out of the toilet and ST asked what was going on. When I explained, he jumped in with this helpful statement, “Little Dog! You get in here under this license plate!”
Indeed.
Oh, and I overslept by 2.5 hours.
The wonders of prescription medication. Good stuff I tell you.