File this under WTF? =or= Why do I have such freaky dreams???

Max wanted to go to the bookstore. So of course, I loaded him into the car and took him to Borders, where we shopped for books on Cheetos, and then went to the cafe for a donut and iced tea.

I don't know why Buddah wasn't there.

Max was curled up on the table and I broke up the donut into tiny cat-sized bites, when a woman at the table next us announced "I hope my husband dies before I do. He has good insurance."

I got up, went over to her and ordered her to stand up. And she did, without asking why.

Then I curled both hands into fists, and punched her in the boobs. "You're mean and you suck," I told her.

After that, she sat down and I went back to my table and continued to feed Max donut pieces. He watched as a little girl walked past the table and to the counter, where she bought a giant Rice Krispie treat. She stopped at the table next to ours and asked the woman there "Would you like a bite?"

"There is no Santa Claus," the woman replied.

Max got up, jumped over to her table, hunched over her scone, and pooped on it.

Before he came back, he balanced at the edge of the table and leaned out to lick the little girl on the cheek.

"He says HE'S Santa!" she squealed. Max jumped back to our table as she ran off.

I think I asked Max if he really was Santa, but that's whan I woke up--because Max was knocking on my forehead with his furry little paw-fist.


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