Sam comes to my door and says: About what?
I says: I’m trying to write a blog about yesterday but it’s going to take really long and I’m tired.
And Sam is about to say something but I says: Plus I’m going out of town for the next five days and I’m afraid I won’t ever come back to this.
And Sam says: Oh right.
And is about to add another statement but I says: And I really want to watch 3:10 to Yuma.
And then Sam starts laughing and I says: That should be the blog post. This conversation.
And then Sgt starts playing with an old toy of his then stops quickly. Sam says: Sarge says: This toy reminds me of how gay Scott is.
Sgt is Scott’s cat. Sgt cannot talk because he is a cat. However, we can often read his thoughts, such as the case above with Sam. One time, Sarge jumped on my chest while I was sleeping and transmitted to me and me alone a movie starring himself as a house cat that could fly airplanes and drive cars. The summary of said dream follows:
In a tightly packed parking lot, two cats, each behind the wheels of late seventies era sedans, weave in and out spaces, thread roadblocks set up by government agents. All the clothes and automobiles are dated. This is a period piece. These events take place in 1978.
I awoke with Sgt staring at me, paw against my neck, claws just lightly dimpling my skin. With no transition into the waking world, I was visited by the movie’s title: AirCats.
I would love to blog more. I would love to provide to the masses a treatment for said aeronautical cat picture. But previous obligations beckon (3:10 to Yuma), so I have to go.
Tomorrow night, I depart for Chicago, then Minneapolis, then (possibly) jail, then Chicago, then Cleveland. All told, I should be gone five days.
Please stay tuned for a short story featuring urban infiltration, fast planes, fast women, mall punks, Mike Sokol, rooftops, undergrounds, bikes, blogs, and, of course, AirCats. All coming within the next seven to ten days on NOMENCLATURE.
And I says to Sam: Hey Sam, you wanna watch 3:10 to Yuma?