Dream 3

I focused my vision to the front of the boat and was amazed at the sight perched on the bow seat. I shook my head to clear the fog and looked again.

It was there all right. But what exactly was it? And how to possibly describe it.

Tiny pink hand-claws were holding a large cheerleader-style megaphone, haloed behind in what appeared to be a Jan Brady afro wig. The greater end was open toward the eight of us rowers. I could see down the tube, through the smaller end and beyond, and there spotted an exceedingly sharp pink nose and whiskers.

Visible below the opening was a torso covered with soft-looking grey fur, wearing a white cotton tank top. A puckering at mid-chest hinted at a training bra beneath.

Over its shoulders I could see a visibly morose man, eyes downcast and hopeless, sitting on the bow deck beating our rowing measure.

The mouse in the 'fro was talking nonstop.

Corporate accounts payable, Nina speaking. Just a moment. Corporate accounts payable, Nina speaking. Just a moment. Corporate accounts payable, Nina speaking. Just a moment. Corporate accounts payable, Nina speaking. Just a moment. Corporate accounts payable, Nina speaking. Just a moment. Corporate accounts payable, Nina speaking. Just a moment.