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Okay, fine.
Night before last, I dreamed I was at a used bookstore that a middle-aged couple ran out of their house, which was also a tree. No, I mean the house was inside or on top of the tree or something. In said dream, it was a local landmark and had been there for years, going through several different owners and functions; I remembered it mainly as a pizza place.
Anyway, I found one book I liked for six dollars but couldn't resist looking some more. At one point, I began flipping through the books beneath the TV console, realized they didn't have price tags, and figured they were the homeowner's personal items and not for sale. Was I embarrassed. Making matters worse, the homeowners were getting tired of waiting for me to finish up, yet I couldn't stop looking. At one point, I noticed a pile of PEANUTS books in the foyer; one was about rare, non-Schultz endorsed items sold in Japan. That looked interesting but it was seventy-five dollars, so I couldn't afford it. I was about to ask the wife of the homeowner something about the house, but she blurted out, "Why do you have to?", on the verge of tears so I realized I'd better not press my luck. But then, heading toward the counter, I was distracted by a bookcase of 1920's children's books...
Suddenly, I was getting ready for work. I was at my mother's house for some reason, which was also the house in the tree, and she didn't have any razor-blades I could use to shave. As I was looking, I had Kathy Griffin's new talk show (which hasn't come on yet) playing in the next room. "I live with pain," Kathy remarks, also annoyed she too can't find any razor blades. "Every single day, I live with pain. And now THIS?".
Looking up, I spot a rat on top of the medicine chest. At least, I think it's a rat. It might be an opposum. You get those when you live in trees. Then I realize it might even be a small dog. I start wondering if Mom might have gotten a new dog, then remember she's been dead for five years so of course she wouldn't.
At this point, it's Craig Ferguson who saw the rat, and he was unable to call anyone else's attention to said rat before it disappeared. And now he's upset that he wasn't able to prove he saw a rat. He's convinced noone will believe him or take him seriously. He sets up a combination sentry post and information kiosk in the couple's living room to keep a twenty-four hour watch for the rat, blogs his experiences hunting the rat, even publishes a book entitled OOOOOO, I SAW A RAT!.
This... This must mean something...
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