Dear Bang,
A few nights ago I had a dream that I was a horse. You’d think that’d be a great dream right? Frolicking around in a field without a care in the world? Eating fresh apples and oats every day? Getting to run like the wind if you wanted to? But no… not this dream. See, I was a carousel horse in my dream, a carousel housed in the back of an 18 wheeler screaming down I90 to Butte, Montana for the annual Silver Festival. Butte is home to like, 9 people, all of them overweight, so I was not excited about this chapter in my story.
My trainer, aka, Jerry the Mechanic, drinks a lot of Bang and always seems to be in a good mood. It could also be that he’s the owner of the carnival and the only one of the employees that get to sleep in air conditioning on a regular basis. See, Jerry is the man that takes care of me (you remember, I’m a carnival horse in this dream… and boy what a dream, and what an ending… I hope you stick around for it. It’s going to be something.) and makes sure my shiny plastic horse mane is clean. He’s always wiping down my handlebars because if he didn’t, they’d be super sticky from the sugar of all the funnel cakes that people who go to carnivals, such as this one, like to eat.
So one day, I say to Jerry, “Hey man, can I try some of your Bang?” And Jerry was all like, “Holy heck! A talking fake horse!” And I’m all like “Yeah man, Jerry, thanks for all you do, but I’d really like to try some of your Bang.” Jerry says, “Alright…” and he pours some on my permanently opened plastic horse mouth. And guess what? It was nice. And then, I woke up.
~fin~
James D. Gamble II Ph.D (Professional Horse Dreamer)