Blog: A Nightmare

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Burt Ross

I just had the most terrible dream – a nightmare of almost indescribable dimension. It went something like this – my daughter had brought home a suitor, and before I could utter a word, he started, “You know, Mr. Ross, I am rich – actually, filthy rich – and if I decide to marry your daughter, she will do very well, believe me. She’s a good-looking chick and built pretty good. I think I might like her.” Before I could interrupt, he continued unabated, “You know, I’ve seen some of the guys your daughter has been going out with, and they don’t add up to very much, I can tell you that – believe me. One guy has the face of a chimp, and did you see the posture of that other guy. I think I will call him ‘Mr. Bent Over.’ She even dated a doctor, now where is that going to get her – in the hospital?” I thought this was never going to end, but it got even worse. “You know, Mr. Ross, I have the biggest hands, and you know what that means?” he asked. “Oh, God, please help deliver this monster from me and my daughter,” I thought, but deliverance was not around the corner. “You know, women love me,” he boasted, “so your daughter is one lucky gal. “Like you, I am in real estate, but not a penny ante player. I do big deals, believe me,” he continued. “I am the best at what I do in the world. Nobody else compares to me. You know if I marry your daughter, I will bring happiness and harmony to our families. All will be well in the world. You can trust me on that.” I started to scream when somebody shook me, and I heard my wife say, “It’s alright honey, you were just having a nightmare.” I told her all about it and thanked her for waking me up. “I never dreamt of anybody that arrogant, narcissistic, mean spirited and utterly obnoxious. I thought the nightmare would never end.” Note to reader: Any similarity between the monster in my dream and the Republican nominee for President is, of course, purely coincidental.