In my dream, my friend Sophia came over to roll out the crust for a quiche. I'm not sure why we were making a quiche, but we never got that far. She was so disturbed at my housekeeping that she left in a huff and started a FaceBook thread about how I should serve time for my wicked, wicked housekeeping ways. From there, she called my boss and told him that I was a hazard to have in the workplace and that my home should be condemned. I woke up with a feeling of betrayal.
Now you may ask, "Slim, do you drink?"
The answer is, "Yes, I do."
Anyway, the truth of the matter is that my house is always about ten times cleaner than hers (although my deceased mother-in-law would never have believed this).
If you dreamed of quiche and vengeance how would it unfold?
No, nothing like that.
I do dream, however, of big assetted woman whisking me off to St Pete for a weekend of shuffleboard, and other forms of debauchery.
The first law of food nightmares states that for every quiche vengeance there is an equal and opposite lobster risotto revengeance.
I become very afraid when there's seafood involved.
See my post in What's For Dinner?
A thirty-five foot-long quiche is patrolling the waters off of Massachusetts, preying on vacationers and locals alike as the hydrophobic local sheriff, a crusty-as-hell working fisherman and a snarky grad student join forces to fight the Quiche in it's own element - All while a highly intrusive musical score saws away in the background.