Catalina's Milky Way Dreams(c) Re- Written 2024 - By The Depressed Poet, Doc Dalton
Shooting Stars and fast moving CarsRumble through the roads of my mindTick-e-ty Tock, the old sounds of the clockSay's it's almost a quarter past nine
The moons surely rising, the stars are a glidingAnd Mr. Sandman is ready to roamHurry off to bed and put your pillow under your headHe might just be visiting you tonight at homeDrifting off to sleep is such a wonderful featAdventures you'll enjoy on your ownMaking new friends on a journey to no endA secrete life that is yours all aloneDon't be afraid of those gobble lee goo'sOr those pirates drifting to sea on their boatsThere's no need to worry there just in your dreamsLike rainbow clouds and cotton candy floatsOh that sky's full of colors of make believe wondersExciting every step of the wayCan't you let me stay for just a little bit longerPlease, don't take my Dreams a wayTo see this through a child's eyesOn the path to where stars brightly beamThrough a different world of twist and twirlsWon't you come to my Milky Way DreamsWe could have so much funUnder an ice cream sun and laugh our time awaySing some M & M songs the whole day longUntil we awake to brand new day
Pluto say's hey kiddo don't get out of bedAs Snakel Puss laughs and says, ah it's OKKKKKKKKPopeye yell's, were gone in a minute after I eat me spinachPoo say's all aboard my Banana Split SleighOh that Sky's full of colors of make believe wondersExciting every step of the wayCan't you let me stay for just a little bit longerWorry not Catalina, we won't take your Dreams a way
To see this through a child's eyesOn the path to where stars brightly beamThrough a different world of twist and twirlsWon't you come to my Milky Way Dreams
Catalina say's, please come join me, on my Milky Way Dreams
I knew something was wrong the moment my refrigerator sighed at me.Not broke down. Not making a weird buzzing noise. Actually sighed… like a disappointed father watching me eat cold pizza at two in the morning.
"Really?" it hummed as I opened the door. "Again?"
I froze with a slice halfway to my mouth. Now most people probably would have panicked, called a doctor, or at the very least stopped eating leftover pizza in their underwear. I did none of those things.
Instead, I asked, "What's your problem?"
The refrigerator light flickered dramatically. And at that moment is when I heard the refrigerator talk to me and I mean I heard a voice from the fridge talking to me. It said, hey "You keep searching for happiness in places where expired ranch dressing lives."
That felt personal.
Ever since then, the refrigerator has become some kind of motivational speaker trapped inside a kitchen appliance. Every time I open the door, it gives me unwanted wisdom. "You deserve better than gas station hot dogs." "Your ex was emotionally equivalent to spoiled milk." "Maybe drink water before your organs file a complaint."
The worst part is Steve makes valid points. I hate that. Oh yea, I name the fridge Steve.
Last night I reached for cheesecake and Steve whispered, "Temporary comfort is not the same as healing." I stood there in silence holding a fork like I had just been spiritually mugged.
Now the microwave has started chiming in too. Very arrogant for a machine whose main talent is making soup explode. The microwave is a moron and because of that, he gets no name, screw him.
Honestly, I do not know what scares me more: that my appliances are talking to me…or that the refrigerator is the wisest thing currently in my life. I can't wait for the coffee pot to start, as long as it smells good, it can say what it wants. Really, I mean that.
"Really?" it hummed as I opened the door. "Again?"
I froze with a slice halfway to my mouth. Now most people probably would have panicked, called a doctor, or at the very least stopped eating leftover pizza in their underwear. I did none of those things.
Instead, I asked, "What's your problem?"
The refrigerator light flickered dramatically. And at that moment is when I heard the refrigerator talk to me and I mean I heard a voice from the fridge talking to me. It said, hey "You keep searching for happiness in places where expired ranch dressing lives."
That felt personal.
Ever since then, the refrigerator has become some kind of motivational speaker trapped inside a kitchen appliance. Every time I open the door, it gives me unwanted wisdom. "You deserve better than gas station hot dogs." "Your ex was emotionally equivalent to spoiled milk." "Maybe drink water before your organs file a complaint."
The worst part is Steve makes valid points. I hate that. Oh yea, I name the fridge Steve.
Last night I reached for cheesecake and Steve whispered, "Temporary comfort is not the same as healing." I stood there in silence holding a fork like I had just been spiritually mugged.
Now the microwave has started chiming in too. Very arrogant for a machine whose main talent is making soup explode. The microwave is a moron and because of that, he gets no name, screw him.
Honestly, I do not know what scares me more: that my appliances are talking to me…or that the refrigerator is the wisest thing currently in my life. I can't wait for the coffee pot to start, as long as it smells good, it can say what it wants. Really, I mean that.
