The Cowboy and the Gunslinger

I'm off to the 1st annual international tamale festival (up on n. spring st and w. ann) with my kid brother and his newly arrived girlfriend (from Korea via Taiwan). we're going to sicken ourselves with cornmeal. It should be delicious fun.

In honor, a dream (from friday night):

Am sitting in some kind of well-lit coffee bar, the kind you find in the bottom of a hotel lobby in some country in asia. There's no smell of coffee, no chatter or rough drafts, just tables and me. A stranger (caucasian, male, jeans) comes up to me asking for an extra pen (to keep). I'm sitting at a round wooden table with a stapled manuscript, a good pen on the left and a clear plastic one on the right . I look at the cheap one - i was writing with it -- "No."

Later he's sitting at a rectangular table next to the window. Now we're enemies and somehow i happen to know that this guy has four balls and I start taunting him about have those two extra testes and he doesn't like that much. But it's not enough to just see him riled and I start calling him "Quattro!" from across the room. That's when he loses his shit and suddenly jumps out of his chair lunging and is in my face reaching for my throat he's gonna rip out my larynx make it stop saying
"Quattro" but my right arm is already fully extended, my right fist, two inches from his nose "Don't or I'll punch your face I'll do it I will!"


Scene.

-a