Homeland Security and the Bordello

            I had a dream that would take longer to describe in the level of detail it contained than it did to dream it.

            Nan and I were driving up a very steep hill in Cecil. I knew we had sold the car, and so immediately knew I was dreaming, but decided to just go with it and see where the story lead. We were talking about cutting and running, selling the house, taking the profit, I'd already quit for medical reasons, N was still working and expecting to go five more years to get the full retirement. We started looking at the numbers, as in, could we invest $300,000 in such a way as to keep us in kibble and a roof over our heads for the next 20 years or so.

            About half way up the mountain we were directed to pull over into the median for a Homeland Defense Inspection. Once there, no one arrived to tell us what to do. We waited, being patriotic and all of that. Finally, there was no one around, so I drove back out to the freeway. Only by now the freeway was up an embankment, and we were forced to stay on the median with several others. As we found a place on the side to merge back with the freeway we noticed that the freeway was cracked and broken, actually rougher than the median we were on previously.

            I found an exit that went along a dirt frontage road, it was much smoother driving. N was upset that I had gotten off the freeway. We eventually ran out of road and had to make our way on foot.

            Looking over the top of the hill, we could see where the cracked and broken freeway had collapsed completely, and several cars were headed out into the air of the newest ravine in the mountainside. N shuddered, not liking heights anyway. I told her I wanted to go and warn the other drivers who were still coming up the mountain. N decided to make her way over to a ranch house while I drove Cecil back down the dirt road and parked on what was left of the freeway with my flashers going. I managed to stop a couple of truck drivers, explaining that the road was out up ahead. Finally some CHP arrived, they wanted to give me a ticket, so I told them it wasn't my car, but I'd come down from the hill to warn about the road collapse.

            "Well, that's different then."  I smiled and waved, walking back up the hill. It really wasn't my car anymore, so I didn't mind so much if they towed it. (I did mind, but mostly because the person who'd bought it hadn't restored it yet.) Not that they would be able to get a tow truck to it any time soon. I watched from the hillside as they created a north bound lane on the eastbound stretch of freeway (it had not collapsed, as it took a lower route through the mountains.) I made my way up to the ranch house to collect N and see if we could get back to Cecil and get underway before the tow truck arrived.

            The ranch house was actually a bordello. N was getting a massage, not being interested in the other services. I found out they needed several workstations repaired, so spent about six hours cleaning up malware and swapping parts from some systems with dead MBs into other systems. They were very grateful and gave us "store" credit. I took a short massage with N and they offered us a room for the night, as it was now very dark, and our car had already been towed. We joined them for dinner, N and I helping out in the kitchen, creating a yummy soup from ingredients they had around. It was quit delightful being surrounded by lovely boobs and buns.

            N, on the other hand, was coping by insisting that it was just a massage parlor. OK, whatever keeps your wheels on the ground I guess. The Owner of the place, who looked like a famous actress, curly haired brunette, but I can't think of her name, offered me a full time job there, running the computer systems and maintaining the web site, taking photographs, writing material, running the BBS. I told her what N and I were currently (most recently) making. "That's all?" was her response. Since I was the one not working, N wasn't too keen on the idea of leaving her work, even though the dream had started with us discussing quitting, selling the house and getting out.

 

Ad astra per technica,

FF