Last night I was visited by a grand golden unicorn. He stood before me in a halo of light. His sliver horn shimmering atop a luxurious ivory mane. I sat speechless and in awe, as he slowly stepped toward me. His legs were muscular, yet supple. His movements elegant and regal. On his left shoulder I noticed two small tattoos, an Indian Chief playing the bongos, and below that, the words “spring break 2008,” in red gothic lettering.
Before I could say a word, the mythic creature threw his colossal head back and let out the loudest belch I have ever heard. His body convulsed and a tremor rippled through the ground below us. My head rattled and my ears began to ring. My eyes watered, my vision blurred and doubled. And then the beast spoke. His voice was shrill and paper thin — a wispy falsetto. “Can I bum a cigarette,” he rasped.
I told him I didn’t smoke, but he was welcome to a glass of the Dolcetto I’d just opened. “It’s not an expensive bottle, but it’s good,” I explained. The magical unicorn lamented that he had given up drinking and sighed.
After that he told me a few of the dirties jokes I’d ever heard, pausing in between to let out terrifying high-pitched cackles. Then I showed him some pictures I’d taken on my iPhone, which led to sharing our favorite youtube videos for an hour or so.
Suddenly my new friend announced that he had to get going. He wished me the best of luck on my Kickstarter campaign, and regretted that he wouldn’t be able to contribute due to limited income. I told him not to worry. Then he threw a water ballon at me and flew off into the sky.
The air was still, and I could hear my own heartbeat. A dog barked in the distance. A naked moon pulled a cloud over herself.