Big Leather Couch

So how many bowls of rice have you donated? Many have become addicted!

HUH? HUH? What? You have not tried it yet?

WHUTTSAMADDAWIDYA?
<-----------GO 'DERE NOW! Bart Nance did not RELISH the thought of opening his eyes and looking over at the clock on the nightstand.

The dream had awoken him in a panic. His eyes opened anyway and they watched as the digital time changed to 12:29. What he did not know is if that were AM or PM. The room was in total darkness.

Totally confused by the dream which had woken him, he felt as if he were in a cocoon lying there in his bed. The covers were pulled up over his chin and he lay on his back and closed his eyes.

The dream was so real. He began to see snippets of it, playing on the inside of his eyelids.

He could see himself entering the law firm where he was a Senior Partner. As it was Friday, he was in a pair of jeans, a button down dress shirt in a pastel shade of pink and his black cowboy boots.

Bart saw the meeting he had with his largest client...replayed the entire 4 hour meeting in the span of 2 minutes…his eyes opened and the clock stared back, the green numbers almost burning into his eyes…12:31….

Closing his eyes again, he concentrated on the dream, trying to determine why this dream had affected him so.

Bart saw himself, once again sitting at his local watering hole. He was talking to Frank, the bartender, and eating his normal Friday dinner, Fried Clams and crispy spiced fries. The band was setting up their equipment. Why did the memory of the band cause Bart to shiver as he lay there beneath the sheets and comforter?

The bar began to fill with men and women, some couples but mainly singles, looking for that someone to make their Friday night more rewarding.

Ordering another drink Bart began to scout the club. Single again after a failed marriage, he had tried the blind dates his friends had set up for him, but they never seemed to work. Frank came over and tilted his head as he spoke, “Bart, new talent over in the far corner, never seen her in here before and she looks like she could be cut from her little group.”

Bart’s eyes scanned over to where Frank was looking and noticed her immediately. She was blond, about 5’7” tall. Her hair down around her shoulders, she was wearing a brick red blouse with that one extra button opened so that a bit more skin on her neck was showing. Her jeans hugged her hips and when she turned, Bart could see a tight ass and her long legs.

The band began to tune up and finish their preparation for the evenings set as Bart rose from his barstool and made his way back to the men’s room. His trip was as much an excuse to get a better look at this lady then anything else, as his journey brought him within 3 feet of her. As he walked by she turned and Bart smiled at her and she smiled back.

Bart’s eyes opened again, breaking away from his replaying of the dream, and the clock almost mocked him as the numbers blazed 12:40. The drapes pulled tight, he was still not sure if the sky outside was pitch black or if the sun were shining brightly, but at this point, he felt a need not to know that fact.

Slowly, his eyes closed again and he saw himself back on the bar stool sipping his drink. The band had begun and slowly the crowd was being drawn to the dance floor. He could, once again, see the woman standing with her friends as they watched the interactions of the crowd around them.

Then Bart watched as he stood up and walked directly over to her. She saw him coming and turned and whispered something to her friend. They both looked over toward him and they were both smiling. When Bart approached he also smiled and said “Hi, I was sitting over at the bar and I could not help but notice you. I was wondering if you would like to dance.”

She accepted and Bart led her to the much too small dance floor. They began to move to the music, their feet moving slowly as the song being played had attracted more of the patrons to get up. As the floor got more crowded they were forced closer and closer together and, even though the song was not so, they ended up body to body as if it were a slow number. It was almost impossible to talk Bart leaned in and semi-shouted “Name is Bart, you are very pretty.”

“Hi, I am Angela, thank you very much.” As the song came to an end, the band began to play a slow dance number and Bart immediately recognized it as the old Beatles’ song “Something”. He put his hand out and Angela put hers in his and their bodies became even tighter. They danced slowly, her head on his chest and Bart could smell her scent and he now remembered how it had intoxicated him.

They had danced almost every song for the rest of the evening. When the band took a break, they moved toward his seat at the bar and he stood as she sat and they talked, her hand resting on his chest, smiling up at him.

Bart’s eyes opened again and he realized he was now breathing a little too hard. His body was soaked in sweat and he could not understand why. Had she come back with him that evening? Had he done something to make her angry and she walked out of the bar on him? He could feel a problem…a horror, but he could not remember as he laid there.

He heard a thought in his head and it made his shiver, even with all the covers and comforter pulled up tight. 1:01 the green LED numbers screamed out at him, almost accusingly. Now why would he feel that? He thought of getting out of bed, but instantly knew that if he did, all memories of the dream would fade and he would never know what it was about.

Bart’s eyes closed again and he saw he and Angela in a collage of dancing and talking and then kissing. His body reacted to the visions of the kiss and he remembered how good it had felt.

Then they were in his car, driving…and then in a wooded area, kissing again.

Once more he was driving and he saw them pull into his garage. So she had come here. But where was she now he wondered as he lay there. She had come with him, in his car…so she had to still be there. Those thoughts made him feel even more apprehensive.

Bart saw them entering his home…kissing…dancing to the soft music coming from his stereo…and then he saw them walking toward the bedroom. This bedroom.

Bart’s eyes opened again and he looked around the room without moving. Everything looked normal, yet everything looked askew.

Tilting his head he looked at the clock again…and gasped. The LED numbers read 12:29 again. How could that be? Then his heart nearly stopped. The numbers on the clock were not their normal bright green…no the numbers on the clock were now blood red…

Bart Nance leaped from his bed and was again shocked into another reality. Standing there in the middle of his bedroom, he was fully clothed. Turning on the floor lamp, he stood in front of the mirror and looked at himself and shivered.

How could that be? Did all of this really happen, or was it just a concoction of his subconscious?

Why were there dark stains on his clothes? Bart Nance stripped his clothes off. A shower will help to revive him and maybe put everything into perspective. He walked into the bathroom and put his hand into the shower and turned on the water.

As the water began to run he turned and looked into the mirror and saw the black rings under his eyes…they had never been there before…why were they there now?

Then Bart pulled the shower curtain back and his eyes opened wide…his jaw dropped open and he began to move backward…the bathroom run snagged under his feet and he stumbled.

Putting his hands out he was not able to catch his fall.

Three days later, the two police officers forced their way into Bart Nance’s home after a call reported that he had not shown up to work or answered any of his phones.

Guns drawn, they made their way through the house.

When they came to the bathroom, they both stopped and re-holstered their weapons.

Looking into the bedroom they saw the man they were looking for, naked on the bathroom floor, a pool of blood around his head. They could see the blood and brain matter on the corner of the vanity where he had obviously banged his head.

The air was foul and the body in the early stages of decay. Flies buzzed around the room.

But that was the simple part of their vision.

The complicated part and the scene that made Officer Paul Getty turn and lose his just eaten lunch of an Italian Hoagie on the carpet in the hallway was the mass of body parts that they could see under the still running water in the shower…