I was feeling great today. I made it back home from Emily’s hometown with a lofty mood, after a night’s worth of jolly drinking and feasting binge, which kinda untangled heaps of my accumulated knots. It felt as if I’ve been lifted off shitloads of mental encumberment, so fresh, so rejuvenated.

Because the sky seemed so blue today, I decided to give my car Lorraine a good wash, and so, I drove her to my apartment’s washing bay (which is right next to the cute dumpster site). When I got myself ready to flush my car, I was suddenly hit by some putrefying stench. Must be from the rotten food inside the dumpster. It’s a good thing. That would mean that my neighbours are blessed with an abundance of food (but hasn’t got enough garbage bags to dispose them.) I guess it’s just fair for them to pour their leftovers all over the dumpsters… the garbage men wouldn’t mind.

I went on to wash Lorraine with a jovial mood, but as I was getting ready to jet water over Lorraine, I noticed that there’s a bag of empty soda cans inside the drain, partially clogging it up. Well, my neighbours certainly were enjoying themselves too much last night, for they haven’t got the time to even dump their refuse into the bin. How nice.

Anyway, because the day’s so beautiful like that, I later decided to go for a movie with Emily. But because the cinema’s packed, I had to change the venue to another mall. No problem for me. On the way out from the carpark, I stumbled into a Mercedes Benz driven by a young lady. That car’s stuck because the lady’s too freaked out to go through the autogate. Instead, she opted to reverse her car ALL THE WAY BACK to the spiralling carpark driveway, back to the mall, hopefully to find some help there. Knowing her effort will be futile, I helped her out by giving her a yank of my melodramatic air horn, which sent her panicking back down the driveway, activating the autogate and shooting out from the area. Human make mistakes, it’s duly acceptable to be such.

The next thing I know after went through that traffic jam to THAT OTHER mall, we missed the show. We bought for the next show instead, which was 2 hours away. But it’s ok, knowing that it’s a beautiful day, it’ll only give me chance to walk around and savour the nice day a little bit. And we ended up burning plenty of time hanging out at places we don’t usually go.

After spending the wonderful 2 hours doing nothing, we finally got into the cinema for the show. Met a lot of interesting people inside there. Especially that inquisitive kid behind our seats who kept asking his parents about what’s happening in the movie. And the lady in front of our seat who kept parrot-ing everything about the movie to her husband. How loving of them. But the most interesting of all was perhaps the bunch of teenagers with spiky hairstyles and baggy pants, who hollered and hooted every now and then unprovoked. I guess that must be their idea of having a great time.

And then more traffic jam home. Good. Allows me time to think.

Then I got home, fired the internet, and read news about people getting stabbed, mugged, hit & run, while our law enforcement officers getting their derrieres busy nabbing & shaving up geriatrics for doing evil things like playing mahjong…

What a beautiful day. It couldn’t have gotten any better than this…

You see, Emily has this big cow pillow, which I gave it to her eons ago way when we’re on our steady years. It’s supposed to be my double for her to hug when I’m not around.

But ever since we’ve been sleeping together, the cow has sort of became our virtual bed pet. At times of good, it’ll end up getting hugged, cuddled, slept on, etc. At times of bad, it’ll get it’s ass kicked to seek greener pastures on the cold hard floor, and sometimes, even became the speed bag of my kungfu punches. (yeah it’s kinda fun to beat up your wife’s/girlfriend’s soft toys… you guys should try it out…)

A couple weeks ago, that goddamn cow got lucky. It somehow ended up in my clutches when I was sleeping through the night. Coincidentally right at that very moment, Emily was getting out of bed for a night piss when she caught me doing this to the toy bovine :

Stroking the cow gently on its head, while wearing a wry grin on my face.

I have no idea if that really happened, but that’s what Emily claimed. The first thing that came into her mind? I was having an explicit/wet dream.

“You must be having a wet dream! HAHAHAHAHHHHH!”

Of course I vehemently denied that.

“Then why are you stroking the cow? Admit it lah! HAHAHHAHAHHHHH!”

Goddamn, if I had a wet dream, shouldn’t I be screwing the cow instead of stroking it’s head? Or perhaps licking it or something?

But no. Instead of that, a simple means of stroking-on-the-head would instigate her to conclude that I’m having an affair with an imaginary character, while remotely ‘molesting’ a fluffy cotton substitute in the form of a bovine to gratify my erotic fantasies… Riiiiiiiiight, that’s soooo rational.

“Then what are you dreaming about that you’ll have to stroke my cow like that? Hmmpffhhh” [She was stifling herself from laughing while asking that...]

I couldn’t answer her because I don’t fucking remember. Heck, I don’t even know if I’ve ACTUALLY stroked anything that night. Even if I did, it shouldn’t take a genius to guess from my simple acts, what I’m actually dreaming about:

1) I could be stroking the head of a kid? Not as a pedophile but as a caring brother? Just like how Jesus loved you miserable bastards out there? This dream might be divine in nature, not as obscene as you filthy people have imagined…

2) Or I could be stroking the head of an animal? A cat or a dog or something? Not as in the act of bestiality but as an animal lover? Like, I could be dreaming that I’m a hippie that smells flowers and loves everything that breathes? (except shapeshifters, of course)… How hard is it for you sane people to imagine that?

3) Or, if you’re imaginative enough, that act of stroking could actually be misconstrued from the act of kneading a dough to make bread? (not kneading tits, pardon me… coz I would have used both my hands). Now, that’s innocent enough…

So, dear, you’ll have to take my word for it. I wasn’t having a wet dream, nor did I molest your cow. I was just being a nice person in my dream… like I always am in reality…