Where's My Dinner? WHERE'S MY DINNER?!

Most men are afraid to admit it, but I'm on to them: they want their slippers and their dinner when they enter the house. Preferably NOT a TV dinner and, yes, please, a foot massage and a mouth that doesn't speak.

Who isn't?

There it was: Pleasantville, a old movie I'd bought for next to nothing starring Reese Witherspoon—mouth-watering Reese Witherspoon I might add. I mean, how was I to know she would say, 'Skip, you can pin me anytime you want to'? (Click HERE if you don't believe me.) Pleasantville. Low cost, low expectations. Bring it on. Make me snore. And then it happened. I sat right up when I heard Pleasantville Bob say those eternal words of wisdom: 'We're safe for now... But if George here doesn't get his dinner, anyone of us could be next.' That should get you thinking. Could I be next? Surely I couldn't be next? Surely it's not me who's gonna come home one day to find a empty plate, a deserted kitchen with the lights turned off and the Missus gone? Missus, by the way, could equally refer to the three-legged kind. I'm modern that way. But I need them slippers! Well, in my dreams I do. For I'm not afraid to admit it: I should've been the King of my castle in the fifties: 'I'm not gonna cook... I need my slippers!'

The problem is I don't really remember my dreams, so technically I'm day dreaming about dreaming about being the Master of the Home in the fifties. Better make that the early fifties, when Elvis was still driving his little truck dreaming about making it big.

THE DREAM

'Bluesville. It's always had a nice ring to it, but I never thought I had it in me to build it with my own two hands.'Well put, mayor Blue. Do continue.'Bluesville, where everybody is blue and no one's a different color. True, some are more blue than others and we call them women, but just imagine: no racism and always milk and cookies for breakfast. All thanks to Bob. I love Bob. Don't you?'
(Applause. The camera zooms in on Blue's zoo um... on his home.)
Blue:'Honey, I'm home! Where's my dinner?'
Mrs Blue:'Ready in a minute, darling. Let me get you your slippers. I've bought you a fresh new pair.The old pair was kinda stinky.'
Blue:'You're such a good wife. I'll build you a bigger kitchen. You deserve it.'
Mrs Blue:'Oh thank you darling. Can we afford it?'
Blue:'Can we afford it... Ha! I'm the mayor of Bluesville. I can afford e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g...'

THE REALITY OF MY LIFE

Of course I'm not going to tell you. I'm biased. A very wise gorilla once very subtly suggested I call myself pussy-whipped. I'd rather call myself pussy-friendly. It's got a better ring to it if you know what I mean. If you do, you've got a dirty mind. Alright, here's the reality of my life:
Mrs Blue: Stop snoring! Leave this room immediately!
Blue: Yes, darling.
(The camera zooms in on Blue's face. He is sitting on his couch. (Blue, not his face.) There's a smile. There's a grin. What is Blue thinking? What is going on there?)
Blue:'Now where's that Big Butt Book I got for X-mas? Blogger Board? No. Ah... there it is. Now... where are my rubber boots? (He puts on his rubber boots and The Cat's superhero underwear.) Yes, they feel good. I'm BACK! HA!... HAHA!... HAHAHA!... '

TO BE CONTINUED...

Just another dream . . .

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