My Life as a Suicide Bomber or Bill Clinton's Escapade at the Fence

I have got to get this whacked-out dream off of my chest. (Is this what sleep is like for you, MadMan?)

The first thing that I remember is that I was kidnapped from my desk at work. No one hurt me, but I was forced to wear what I would describe as an orthopedic tool belt. It was grey, and bulky, and full of...bombs! Woohoo. I then had to go back into work, while few people were still on the office, and transfer a load of files. The files were marked A-H. I found shortcuts on my desktop to the files. All I had to do was to get my boss to agree to transfer the files, and if he did not I would have to do it anyway. No matter what- I am screwed! I am a patsy, or a piece of organic shrapnel.

I get to my desk, and begin transferring the files, which are actually some odd type of Barbie doll. Some of the files are contaminated, so they are not actually Barbies, but more like an Aldi's Barbie that your grandmother would buy you with her last dime. So, now, I have to go to the "compound" of these strategic geniuses and explain that I am sending all that we have got, but it's not going to be what they expect. They hold me hostage until they figure out what to do. After a long while, they find out that I hate George Bush. Well, this is apparantly their entire motive, and I am released of my bombs and live with this mini- militia. All of these psychos, mind you, look like a group of suburban families. Kids are frolicking, and the lawn is well mowed. I realized that all of this planning and plotting terrorism has made me very hungry. I head into the back yard for some BBQ.

The BBQ is down a gently sloping hill and to my left, and on the hill to my right, is my brother. What in the hell is he doing here? I head down to talk to him, and I pause- because he's golfing, of course! He's got a sand wedge out, and chipping on the grass. I walk over and give him a huge hug, and he begins telling me jokes. We are laughing, and a golf cart pulls up about 30 feet to our left. A couple of guys get out, wearing mardi gras beads. They begin strolling toward the BBQ. One of the gentlemen shouts out a joke to my brother about his swing, and I realize it's Bill Clinton! My jaw dropped as I look at my brother, R, and he is laughing as though they are old friends. I guess they are. How come R never mentioned this before? Bill looks at me and we are all still joking, and he gives me this thumbs up, with both hands. I look at him, and shoot him with my fingers, "Right back at ya!". I have no idea what in the hell is going on. All I know is, I am no longer about to explode, my brother is buddies with Bill Clinton, and I still don't have my damned ribs.

I will tell you now- THIS IS WHERE IT GETS REALLY WEIRD. (think: disclaimer) I grab some ribs, mingle and talk to everyone, including Bill. He is exactly as I imagined him- hilarious and laid back. A few couples go off to "swing". Wow. I am really shocked by this, and that in and of itself surprises me. Then some weird bell rings and it's time for the women to "line up". All of the women- no, I sat this one out- lined up behind a six foot tall privacy fence near the main driveway. This fence had slats that were a couple inches apart. Every woman pressed herself against the fence, and exposed herself through the fence. I mean EX-POSED. Somehow, they managed to actualy fit their labia between the slats. The men lined up on the other side, and found a fence "sprouting" all of this genitalia. The men then walked along the fence, in this bizzare promenade, stroking each one. I am stunned, too alarmed to do anything but watch.

I walk back into the main house. I am now in a closet. There are three doors around me; and everything is painted white. All of the doors are locked, and they are old doors with keyholes. Each keyhole has something different pained above it. One reads "Men". One reads "Women", and one reads "Men and Women". I look in the women one first, and there are a couple of very unattractive, overweight women "getting it on". I peek in the keyhole marked "Men and Women"- another unattractive couple, of opposite gender. At this point, I am all too wise to peek in the keyhole marked "Men." I open another door that I did not see upon my initial inspection, and it opens into a corridor. I dash down this hall, finding nothing but more closets like the one I just found myself in. Finally, I reach the end of the hall, only to find one last door in front of me. I hesitate, but finally open it. And, suddenly, there I sit at the breakfast bar in the kitchen of the main house. Clinton is telling me another joke, and pouring another glass of Pinot Grigio for me. I am laughing so hard, I am trying not to let it burst out of my nose.

The End.

Now, what in the hell was that? I actually have a good idea, but if anyone has any great interpretations- feel free to let me know!