You blink your eyes and pull up on your elbows. Your clock glows red in the darkness - it’s 3:23. “Do you want to climb in bed and tell me about it?”
The oddness of the situation wakes you up more fully. You can barely make out your daughter’s pale form in the darkness of your room. “Why not, Sweetie?”
“Because in my dream, when I told you about the dream, the thing wearing Mommy’s skin sat up.”
For a moment, you feel paralyzed; you can’t take your eyes off of your daughter. The covers behind you begin to shift.
“Baby, just you shut your mouth…”
David Bowie erupts from the covers, tossing your dead wife’s skin aside like one of his famous stage costumes. “David mother-fucking Bowie!” you and your daughter scream in unison.
“This ain’t rock n’ roll… This is GENOCIDE!” he screams, materializing a flaming guitar out of the ether and into his hands. He proceeds into a jam session that results in a horrific block fire, killing 37 people and was hailed by Rolling Stone as the greatest concert of the decade.
* * *
A few years ago, a mother and father decided they needed a break, so they wanted to head out for a night on the town. They called their most trusted babysitter. When the babysitter arrived, the two children were already fast asleep in bed. So the babysitter just got to sit around and make sure everything was okay with the children. Later that night, the babysitter got bored and went to watch TV, but she couldn’t watch it downstairs because they did not have cable downstairs (the parents didn’t want children watching too much garbage).
So, she called them and asked them if she could watch cable in the parent’s room. Of course, the parents said it was okay, but the babysitter had one final request… she asked if she could cover up the David Bowie statue outside the bedroom window with a blanket or cloth, at the very least close the blinds, because it made her nervous. The phone line was silent for a moment, and the father who was talking to the babysitter at the time said, “Take the children and get out of the house… we will call the police. We do not have a David Bowie statue.”
All of a sudden an electric guitar cut through the air. “KEEP YOUR ‘LECTRIC EYES ON ME BABE!” howled a voice from outside. The babysitter dropped the phone and ran to the window. “David Fucking Bowie!” she screamed, watching the statue as it came to life, shredding chords on its electric guitar. “Put your ray gun to my heeeeeead!” The babysitter ran the children outside where they watched an impromptu Bowie concert that was so awesome that afterwards the children had sweet dreams forever more and the babysitter was given a bonus for her efforts.
“Daddy, I had a bad dream.”