The Golden Voyage of Barney Rubble, part 5

Numberless days and myriad nights passed in drunkenness as the boat seemed to arc lackadaisically through the ocean. The morons seemed oddly pleased with themselves, tending ropes and stabbing sea monsters as we voyaged along. Man, was I ever drunk!
I would sing this melody to amuse myself, the sea monsters, the morons, Rubble and the unending skies and waters:

"I walked into the sand castle
With a histrionic nod
I was about a hundred million miles
Away from the old sod
And you were so ambivalent
I thought you was evil I thought you was rude
That I felt like the thirty-third person
About to intrude

And I said “Me! Me! Me!
Don’t talk bologna, babe
You gotta talk turkey to me
You gotta talk turkey
or doncha say nothin’ at all”

The miracle of thought projection
Better known as telepathy
Told me what you were going to say
Before you could say it to me
I was able to forestall rejection
By doing the interrupting cow
You stuttered like a brain surgery
So what do you say now?

Well now its “Me! Me! Me!
Don’t talk bologna, babe
You gotta talk turkey to me
You gotta talk turkey
or doncha say nothin’ at all”

I slowed down time and space
With a wave of my wand
The befuddle-tized look on your face
Was like ripples on a pond
I talked real slow and bass-tone
Like a slowed down reality
And I don’t know which way I’m going
But at least I’m giving you the jive

Well now its “Me! Me! Me!
Don’t talk bologna, babe
You gotta talk turkey to me
You gotta talk turkey
or doncha say nothin’ at all”


One night, in pale blue moonlight as I slept, my dream self apprehended the approach of a Dreamhorse over the waves. Up he clip-clopped on the deck, speaking to me telepathically as he approached. “I’m going to show you the way to the land of forgetfulness,” he thought.

He thought to me to climb upon his back and off we trotted, across the foam of the world ocean. As we moved, he bid me remark the blue-tinged constellations above, pointing the way. I could see how they interlocked and pointed a path out across the surging seas.

At some length of time, we reached land and the Dreamhorse trotted along, thinking a horse-song to me to pass the time. Still, I remarked the connected blue constellations above us, which appeared to terminate now some distance ahead.

I knew my drunken body still lay back on the deck of the Golden Boat and this, my dream self was alert and aware to the directions being shown to me.

After many miles, we came to a great city, walled with large stone ramparts and opening into a central courtyard, pleasing to the eye. Naked maidens greeted the Dreamhorse, petting his silken snout and praising him for his equine prowess. He mentally introduced me, but the maidens, aroused by his presence, took no note of me. Their musky scents mixed in the cool, lunar-tinged night air as the Dreamhorse calmed them with his mind.

“This is your destination,” the Dreamhorse mentally told me. That seemed right on to me. The women and their city were of fine filigree. But how would I convince Rubble? “Leave that to me,” thought the Dreamhorse.

Regretfully, the Dreamhorse detached himself from the worshipful, cooing maidens and made his way back to the city gate. “The maidens of this city lack in male companionship,” he thought to me. “Perhaps you, Rubble and the Morons can make amends for their situation?” “You damn betcha!” I thought back, enthusiastically. He whinnied appreciatively and headed back to the ocean.

We retraced our dream-steps over the ocean, this time with me guiding him by the trail of constellations above until we came upon the Golden Boat. I descended from his back and re-entered my drunken, sleeping body. “You now know your destiny,” thought the Dreamhorse as he stepped out of sight into the night across the world Ocean.