Stare Into Space

Just frickin’ weird

Posted on | April 13, 2009 | 2 Comments

Last night, I had an odd dream.

I was Telly Savalas. You know, Kojak.

Wait, it gets weirder…

I, as Telly, was going to meet the Pope. The actual Pope. The Big Catholic Cheese.

In the Vatican, a cardinal (possibly, my knowledge of the upper echelons of the Catholic hierarchy is limited) asked me to wait as he went into the next room to see if the Pope was ready for our meeting. He came back out and told me to go in. Bit of a shock as the Pope was sitting on the toilet in a vast, sumptous bathroom. All marble and fancy red carpets with not a drop of wee on them. Even the toilet roll holder was gold.

The Pope waved me in and offered his ring to kiss (no making up your own jokes). This I, or Telly, dutifully did.  We even said “Your Holiness” and it was all very respectful. I remember thinking that it was a bit odd to have a meeting while on the toilet, but Telly had important stuff to discuss and so he and I put that to one side.

His Holiness and Telly chatted for a while – I can’t remember the content – and then the Pope asked if I/Telly would like some food. Food in the bathroom? Perks of the papacy, I assume. I sat on the red carpet and a lady (I know) came with a sandwich. It had turkey and some other stuff inside but, and this is the important bit, it had mustard. Really strong mustard. Telly didn’t realise and a big glob hit the back of his throat and began to burn there.

At this point, I woke up hacking and coughing at the mustard in my throat.

Think it means anything?


Gerry Hayes

Gerry Hayes

I mostly sit around all day and drink tea. Occasionally, I write stuff and send it to strangers so they can humiliate me and deride my efforts. Other than the self-harm to dull the shame of failure, it's not a bad life. Like I say, there's tea.

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