I don't know how, but in my dreams last night Manny Salazar, aka Big Poppa, "Cheludo," and a few other names I may not know about, came a-callin'.
Apparently, word had gotten out that I was to be sought out for good time fun. What that may have meant to him, or how word had reached him was a mystery. I try to keep that kind of thing to myself.
I was looking at some sleazy personal ads at the time he approached me, so I quickly closed my browser and informed him that what I do for a good time is my own business.
He decided not to take that for an answer and invited me out to cruise around Chico in his car, searching for those aforementioned good times.
Jim Turnbough, a current member of the cult I ditched in the '80s figured in as a peripheral figure, someone Manny was to check in with for authorization in some way. Not exactly a reality-based dream in any way, but it had the look and texture of it enough for me to remember it.
No comments:
Post a Comment
I've changed my comments settings to allow for anyone to comment. All comments are welcome, even spineless potshots from anonymous posters. Please, by all means, give me the tongue lashing I so richly deserve. I promise not to hunt you down and melt your keyboard with my plasma cannon. I won't, however, promise not to pout and make that face you can't stand.