shanmonster | The Dream

I'm in the middle of trying to book a hotel room for someone when I get some crazy messages on my computer screen. I try calling my supervisor, and she puts me on hold for about twenty minutes. Rather than arrange for a call back for the guest, I instead go on a crazy mission to locate the information.

I get up and leave the building in an attempt to find my supervisor. I know she's been relocated to the old TD Bank building, so I walk down the street until I find it. I speak with her in person, get the correct information, and then try to find my way back to work. Although it's only two doors away, I get completely lost, and wander all the way down to the waterfront. A police car pulls over, and I clamber in through the window on the driver's side and sit on the cop's lap. He drives me back to work saying, "Beautiful people look the best after they've been subjected to police brutality."

I climb back out the window, where I'm witnessed by a co-worker. He stares, confused, and I can't say I blame him. I giggle like an idiot. I get back on the phone with my client. By this time, she's been on hold for about 45 minutes. I give her the rate for the room, and she's not interested. She asks me if there are any other room choices.

"Yes. We have a film special where you can take your room to the drive-in theatre to watch kung fu burlesque films for the same price."

"No fucking way," she says. "I hate kung fu movies. Anything else?"

"Yes, there's also the same deal featuring a movie starring Bridget Fonda with superfluous nipples."

"Superfluous nipples! Hun, I can tell you all about superfluous nipples. I have dozens to spare."

"Do go on," I say, and I put her on speaker phone so all can hear.

"I've got superfluous vaginas, too. This one time, I was trying to put in my contact lenses when my husband surprised me by going down on me while I was trying to put them in. I dropped my lenses on him and he had to help me find them to put them in the fridge. And then when he got back to business, my cooter barfed a doughnut all over his face. You know how that is."

"Er, I can't say that I do."

"So then it barfed black bile on him, too, so he went to get a flashlight for a better look."

At this point, I realize that broadcasting this information is definitely in breach of our Political Correctness code at work, and I manage to wrap the call up without any further perversion. Then I wake up.