Sleep Talkin' Man (6 page)

Adam says, “I had never been so hyped-up with anxiety in my life, charging through the airport, getting though customs. But then I came through those doors, and the moment I first saw you, I knew that I was in love with you, had never stopped loving you, and that I wanted to spend my life with you.”

I, on the other hand, couldn’t look at him. Literally. Even though I had been staring at his face in 2–D for hours every night, there was something so significant, so momentous, so goddamn BIG about seeing him for the first time after all those years, I just couldn’t do it. We stood there toe-to-toe, my eyes on the linoleum, for twenty minutes. And the longer I waited to look up, the BIGGER it became, until we had passed beyond the realm of the dramatic, into the territory of the utterly absurd.

Finally, just to put myself out of my misery, I lifted my chin and flicked my eyes to his, and
then as quickly as possible buried them again against his chest in a smothering hug. It was a lot easier driving, when I had an excuse to only glance at him for fleeting moments. By the time we arrived in my neighborhood, I could almost look him full in the face.

Six weeks later, we were engaged.

When are you gonna learn:

when transporting giraffes, shouting “duck” every time you hit a bridge doesn’t work!

Elephant trunks should be used for elephant things only. Nothing else.

Mmmm, I do like your shampoo.
Smells like llama spit. Is it llama spit?
Smells like llama spit.

Listen up, people.
Sasquatch has been in my sock drawer again, and now he’s somewhere lose in the bathroom.
So I’m setting up a six-foot perimeter fence, and someone bring me my clippers.
He’s mine this time.

Hey, I know you, but I don’t like your face.
Take it off … That’s much better, much better.

You can’t do that to a jellyfish. I’m calling the authorities. You dirty jelly molester.

I’m just a chubby ninja.
Able to move between skinny people.

Tiptoeing elephant. No one can see me.
And then I attack! With ice cream and jelly, with chocolate sprinkles on top.
Mmmmm.

How do blind people know they’re done wiping? How?

I’ve got to get me two or more of those little fellas if I’m going to be able to make goblin soup. Mmm-hmm. It’s so true.

If that shark thinks it’s coming to bed for a cuddle, it’s got another think coming.
God, it’s all me me me with that fucker.

Drilling … drilling … keep on drilling … drill … Oops! Fuck me.

Now this little piggy went to market.
And this little piggy had roast beef.
No, this little piggy had none.
Because this little piggy was vegan.
He doesn’t eat roast beef. He’s weak.
He’s easy catching.

Has everybody got their gerbils? Alright?
Good. Okay, commence shaving!

What the fuck’s wrong with your face?! Christ on a bike, next time you’re smiling, warn me.

As incredible as me.
As spectacular as me.
As awesome as me.
Oh, the similes are just so limiting. Really.

Oh, this is a one-man job. A very big man with six arms and enough ears for each one of your fucking suggestions.

Where’d you put the pelican food? Where’d you put the pelican food?! They’re gonna be really cross if we don’t get the pelican food. Shit. I found the toys for the toucans, but I need the pelican food. If you don’t find their food, I’ll find a reason to punch you in the face. I’m not going out there without the pelican food. Fuck it, you can go out there.
You explain it to them. They’re all beaky and flappy. Once they get excited, they just cause a mess. There’s no reasoning with them, either. Nope. Unreasonable beaky twats. Big mouth fuckers. Find their food!

We should stand up for the downtrodden and ugly. Let them taste freedom for a moment … and then nuke the cunts.

I can see your future.
And—oh. You just had the best bit.

Talk once more, and I will sue you for ear abuse. Shame on you.
Shame! Auraphile.

The noodles are coming!
Stand by your chopsticks.
Steady the miso … Steady …
Don’t do anything until you see the whites of their strands.

It’ll suck to be a moose.
You just can’t play Pong.

I’m sorry,
I can’t come to the phone right now.
But if you’re not my mother, you can leave a message. Beeeep.

You didn’t leave me any ice cream.
Why didn’t you leave me any ice cream? You shit-head mother fuckers, you never give me any ice cream. Well happy fucking birthday. You’re fucks, the lot of you.

I only wanted some ice cream. With chocolate sauce. And Oreo. And marshmallow. And some chocolate sprinkles. Yeah, that’s all I wanted. AND A SPARKLER.
Couldn’t even do that for me.
I hate you all.
FUCK BAGS!

Damn those tortoises.
They outnumber us fifty to one, and we’re not allowed to carry stun guns! Oh!

Milkshake time! Everyone grab your cow!

BLECH!
You can’t give me that cottage cheese shit. It’s like albino diarrhea.

No puppy! Bad puppy!
Make you into puppy slippers.

One of the fun unexpected side effects of STM going public is that we’ve heard from and met some of the most extreme sleep talkers and walkers in the world. Compared to some of them, Sleep Talkin’ Man seems downright subdued! Once, on a talk show, we met a woman whose antics were truly impressive. On the mild end were the long bouts of sleepwalking where she’d pace angrily around the house wielding kitchen knives, or methodically wash all of her panties in the cat’s water bowl. On the extreme end was a story she told about the night that she went into her grandmother’s room, dragged granny out of bed, forced her into the bathroom, and tried to give her a bath.

So many people have written in to share their sleep talking and sleepwalking stories with us. It seems almost everyone has a tale about the bizarre things their bedmate, sibling, parent, or college roommate has done in the late-night hours, and, yowza, there are some shockers! An entirely unfettered subconscious can prompt some astonishing behavior, including breaking into your neighbor’s and crawling into bed with
them, and (ew!) drinking the oil off the top of a jar of natural peanut butter.

I’ve sprinkled our favorite fan stories that we’ve received throughout this book as “Letters to Sleep Talkin’ Man.” I love this stuff. To me, the best thing about these anecdotes and the others we’ve heard is that (usually) no one is hurt by anyone’s sleeping antics and, in the end, everyone’s got a great story to share.

Letter to Sleep Talkin’ Man

One night I was having this dream, but it was the kind of dream where it feels like you’re actually awake. So as far as I knew I was awake, but I was actually sleepwalking. I went into the bathroom and saw the toothpaste lying on the counter, missing its cap. I don’t know why but for some reason this was the WORST possible thing that could EVER happen and if I didn’t find the cap IMMEDIATELY, the world was going to END!! So I looked everywhere—on the floor, under the cabinet, everywhere. No cap. Time was running out! Then I saw the roll of toilet paper and had an idea …

I grabbed the toilet paper and started wrapping it around the toothpaste. I wound it around and around till the whole roll was gone. So now I had a big ball of toilet paper holding the toothpaste in the tube, but NO! That wasn’t good enough! So I went into my room and opened my dresser drawer and

grabbed a couple T-shirts and wrapped those around, too. Finally, when I had a bundle the size of a football wrapped around the toothpaste I felt relief. The world was finally safe! I put the giant toothpaste tube–ball into my drawer, closed it, and went back to sleep in peace.

In the morning I woke up to the sound of my dad yelling, “WHEEERE’S THE TOOTHPASTE?” Suddenly I remembered the whole thing. “No, it can’t be,” I was thinking, “it had to be a dream …” But I opened my dresser drawer and … yep, there was the ball. So I started unwraaaapping it and unwraaaapping it—it took FOREVER. When I finally got all the stuff off, there in the middle was the toothpaste … with the cap on.

Tammy S.

Ontario, Canada

Smug fucking chameleon,
with its googly oogly eyes.
Stick it in front of the TV.
That’ll fuck it up.

“Going to husband school. Always having to do better. The teacher’s a bitch and there’s no chance of graduating”

I can’t tell you how many concerned e-mails and comments I’ve gotten from blog readers, checking to see if I’m emotionally intact after the latest STM zinger. For example, the above. That’s right, lying right next to me, Adam said that in his sleep. But no, he did not wake up to find me sobbing dejectedly or glaring accusingly. Granted, Adam does say some truly dreadful things in his sleep. And I suppose that there are some women out there who would worry that their husband was revealing some dark, hidden feelings about her that he dare not utter in the light of day.

I am not that woman. There has never been a single utterance to come out of Sleep Talkin’ Man that has offended me, or left me fretting for my relationship. I’ve got a husband who still sends me off to work with sandwiches in which he has
tucked little love notes. Why would I get myself worked up over some nutty nighttime nattering?

STM does spend an inordinate share of his limited airtime spewing insults. People have commented that he must really dislike people, or suffer from some serious anger issues. All I can say to that is, as the person who sees more of him awake and asleep than anyone, it’s just not true—Adam spends most of his days in good spirits, and genuinely likes and gets along with just about everyone. So I believe that, for the most part, his clever but scathing insults are not inspired by anyone, but are just Adam’s subconscious letting off a bit of steam while entertaining itself along the way.

Nevertheless, Adam’s sleep talking has occasionally gotten him into a spot of trouble with those who did take something personally. For example, this little time bomb from two years into our relationship:

“Your mum’s at the door again.
Bury me. Bury me deep.”

My mom read the blog that day. When she spoke to me a day or two later, she joked about Adam owing her an apology. By the time she had made this quip three more times over the next week, I got the message that she really was waiting for an apology, or at least some assurance. I think my mother was feeling genuinely concerned that STM was revealing some kernel of truth about Adam’s feelings. Seriously, Mom, the guy herds pygmy goats, keeps a midget in his closet, and married a zombie. How much more evidence would it take to convince you that STM’s universe is populated with an entirely different cast of characters than Adam’s? There’s a whole other world up there in Adam’s head, and STM insults his way through every bit of it.

That said, it often happens that particular events in Adam’s waking life crop up in some warped form in his late-night mumblings. This has been known to drop him in a bit of hot water. For instance, one night after he had shamelessly teased the receptionist at work about the prolific :) and :( faces studding her e-mails, STM came out with:

“If she sends me one more fucking smiley
face emoticon, I’m gonna shove that
keyboard so far up her ass, she’s gonna
have to tweak her nipples to force quit.”