Daydream #44
...a fierce headwind nearly blows the Ray Bans off my face as I outmaneuvere Petrocelli's buttonmen for what I pray might be the final time. By tomorow Chelsea and I will be in San Luis, ordering room service, wearing bathrobes embroidered with some other couples initials.
The 38-foot cigarette boat we "borrowed" from the good people at Olsen's Marina is nearly out of gas. (I'll be sure to pin a c-note to the seat when I return her--maybe a thank you card.) The Golden Gate Bridge is violet as sundown approaches. Chelsea hands me an Orange Fresca from the wet bar. I touch her pregnant belly and we both smile. "Two million in each bag. That's six million total, babe. We did it."
The cell phone starts buzzing in the empty cup-holder it's occupied since Tuesday, when the whole thing started. We've been waiting for one call and one call only: "It's Dad.", she says "He wishes to speak with you."
"I promise to have her home by ten, Sir...(laughter)...well, who knew a president's daughter would have such a natural affinity for an AK-47?..."
posted by Peter @ 5:38 AM
6 Comments:
I like your dream life. Keep it going ...
Don't vaccinate against your daydreams, they are great.
Lisa
Jeeze, thanks!
I figured I'd try something that actually references the suggestive title and look of this blog for once.
Knocking up the daughter of a former POTUS is cool- but i still think the Gore girls are hotter.
Yeah, but then I'd have to talk to Al Gore on the phone. He wouldn't understand our plight the way Bill does.
who are you, "b"?
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