I had a dream about you last night. We were walking through some grbumy hills. Inexplicitly, you stopped and told me not to make a sound. You looked around and sniffed the air; said “It’s not safe here.” To my bewilderment you started to undress. It was then that I noticed that you weren’t fully a man. You were a Centaur. You said, “I need you to ride me was.” I was about to speak, you said “There is no time. Get on my back and ride me.” I protested that we didn’t have a saddle. “I am all out. You are just going to have to go bareback. Just try to be gentle.”

Sadly that is were my dream ended. What do you think it means, Tubsweetie?

I just had another dream with you in it.

We were at a costume party. I was dressed as the anorexic left testicle of Gene Kelly. Your costume was a Nancy Drew ghostwriter. The party was a drag. Everyone thought I was supposed to be Drew Carey.

Tubsweetie are you getting my messages? Are my missives from the heart reaching you? Send me word Tubsweetie. Give me a sign that these scribbles are penetrating your eyes. Oh Tubsweetie I can wait till I am near you again.