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December 13, 2004
What Other People Dream
"Hey. Who lives here. I'm gonna sneak that board on wheels out here and ride it down the street."
"This is my house."
"Oh." Ok. I didn't just tell some guy at a party that I was going to take abuse the host's furniture, I told the host I was going to sneak his stuff out of the house and use it to luge down the hill outside his house. I had to think hard. How do I get out of this?
"Well, that board on wheels -- that thing looks cool. I was thinking of riding it in the street." That's it. Tell him the truth, but a very mind version. I was only "thinking" about taking it for a ride. I wasn't a heartbeat away from doing it as long as the homeonwner wasn't out on the porch to see.
"Isn't that thing awesome? I dragged it out tonight just for that."
What? This guy is thinking what I'm thinking? Taking the bottom half of an old entertainment center, lying on your chest and riding it down the street? How could this be? Have I truly found a kindred spirit?
"I just ride it in the house, but I guess you could do it outside."
I compromised, it was raining after all.
We rode the wheeled board back and forth across his house. He would lie on it and push himself back and forth. I opted for the running start. The downward leap. Belly flopping on the board and flying across the house.
I eventually got a little worried that the board riding was taking me away from my beer drinking, and the beer was in limited supply and therefore needed my undivided attention, and decided to take a beer break. I sat in the sparsely furnished living room, with only a couple chairs pushed into one corner (I presume to facilitate board on wheels usage).
I sat down and was asked, "Were you in marching band?"
"What? Marching band? Like in high school or something?"
"Yeah. Were you ever in a marching band?"
"No. Why?"
"No reason."
"Why would you ask if you --"
"I had a sex dream about you last night." She leaned over and whispered. "Don't tell anyone."
"Wait. I was in a sex dream? Awesome!"
"Well, we didn't actually have sex. No one had sex."
"That doesn't sound like a sex dream."
"It was, sort of. I was watching a parade with a marching band and it was only guys with tubas. It was driving me crazy. I was writhing on the street."
"Guys with tubas?"
"Yeah, you were one of them. There were lots of guys I knew, though, not just you. -- Have you ever seen guys playing tuba? The way they hold it so sensually?"
Someone called her. I heard Mr Boh trapped in the refrigerator calling out for me.
I went into the kitchen and a couple people were smoking cheese. They had made a makeshift pipe out of an old beer can, poked a few holes in the side, and put cheese on top. Part of a cheese ball. They were smoking the cheese. (No, seriously. Cheese. That's not a euphemism or anything.)
I grabbed another beer and headed back to the now abandoned living room. All I saw there was the board. The board on wheels staring at me. Imploring me to take it outside and ride it down the street.
Braking could be figured out when and if needed. It was the riding that was important. I ran outside to see if the rain had cleared up a bit, to check traffic conditions; maybe traffic was pretty heavy in this neighborhood at 3am. One never knows. It's best to check first.
I flung the door open. "They were all tuba players?" I heard someone shriek. Everyone was outside discussing the sexless sex dream.
I wonder what the sex dreams were like in the house I was hanging out in earlier that night.
Drinking a Sparks I got a tour of the house. "Here's the living room, the kitchen. There are more rooms down in the basement."
The knob on the door to the basement was a hand carved wooden torso. A naked woman as a door knob.
"The band practices in that room. Then my room's upstairs."
It was a pretty big room. A half floor sort of room (I think that's what they're called - the kind of room upstairs with the slanted ceiling where the roof comes down) with an oldly placed entertainment center.
"I guess it has to be in the middle of the room because it's so tall." I thought. I looked at the ceiling above the entertainment center. "What are those hooks for?"
"What do you think?"
"I don't know; a sex swing?"
"Exactly."
"Woah. He's kinkier than I thought." I said to my friend. It was her boyfriend's house. He was at work.
"No. He didn't put those there. He grew up in this house. That's for his dad's sex swing."
"What? His dad's sex swing? That's crazy. Parents don't have freaky sex like that."
"Daniel's dad and step mom do. Super freaky. They run some web site that shows pictures of them getting all freaky too."
"No way. That must be creepy to know your dad was getting it on wilder than you do, like, right in the same spot."
"It gets worse. All the kids moved out and left them alone for a while, then Daniel was helping them move to their new house and he found like a huge great dane cage in the corner."
"No way."
"They never had a dog. They were using it as, like, a sex cage."
I can't even imagine the sex dreams that went on in that house underneath the sex swing, in the shadow of the sex cage. Still, maybe they didn't really involve actual sex either. Raw meat...high heels...leather...ball gags...no sex.
Posted by calculatoronfire at December 13, 2004 10:51 AM