Good Morning Suffering Creatures of God’s Handy-work,
All is not right. I sense something looming and tend to lean toward foreboding as opposed to happy beyond belief. I’ve felt it coming for weeks now, and relieved to some degree because whatever is coming is at the door. My first clue came two weeks ago on the golf course. I suspect it will be the last opportunity to play for the year and I was in the traditional mode of farting, drinking beer, and telling bad jokes when without warning I found myself on my own “road to Damascus.” I was absolutely frozen in maximum back swing on number 16. I couldn’t move or speak but could see and hear perfectly. I had a vision. I rarely claim to remember my dreams but this was quite different. All I could do was watch and listen. Yet I also absorbed a number of sensations or feelings I can’t understand. But the little message delivered was deliberate and spoken with powerful intensity.
My immediate impression was this must be a sign from God. Imagine you’re watching a movie in one of those sterile “multi-plex Mega Houses” of twenty-five theaters. You’re watching it from the front row craning your neck attempting to see but always looking up the nose of the actors. At that range the image engulfs even the periphery of your visual input. As if directed by Terry Gilliam (Monte Python fame) I found myself staring straight into the eyes of Elizabeth Montgomery who played Samantha on “Bewitched”. She was gnarly and old; you could tell she’d been dead for a while. I was scared shitless but was helpless to move still frozen in a full back swing. As she loomed closer I noticed a kaleidoscope-like effect emanating from the back of Samantha’s head like some sort of halo you’d see in a Raphael painting. It zoomed into my face so all I could see were her lips and scaled flesh. She opened her mouth to speak and white light beamed through nearly blinding me. Then in a flash of clarity I distinctly heard the words…”Pull my finger”…”pull my finger”…”pull my finger”.
Samantha’s kaleidoscopic head zoomed out and the image faded to black but still posed in my back swing. In a twinkling of an eye I followed through to complete the drive on number 16. It seemed like hours had passed. However, it was possibly the best drive I’ve ever hit. I was playing with a couple of friends who acted as if nothing had happened so I held off telling them about my vision. As I was walking down 18 I pondered on what had just happened and stored it away with a number of other bizarre things I’ve kept to myself because of their collective inability to be explained. I finished the round and headed for Dewey’s.
I’m rarely at Dewey’s or any other bar for that matter after 9:00 but needed to sort things out with cheap Cabernet. I had just finished my third one and asked to close my tab, when a vision of loveliness rested her beautiful ass atop the barstool next to mine. She looked to be in her mid-thirties and was wearing a white halter-top that could hardly contain her 38 D’s and cut-off Levi’s accenting her long tan legs. She turned and faced me directly and said hello. I immediately withdrew into Cliff Claven mode and barely mumbled a lame reply. I could scarcely believe my luck and had to look around making sure she was talking to me. I quickly gained my composure, stopped hyperventilating, and ordered the both of us a drink. All this happened without much dialog and still didn’t know her name. We raised our glasses in a mock toast, took a long sip, and put our glasses down. I extended my hand to introduce myself but instead of shaking my hand she extended her index digit and said.. ”pull my finger!”
To be continued…