Why Odie Can't Sleep

By Odienator

I have been having some weird ass dreams. Perhaps it's my pressure pills, or job stress, or that I've finally fallen off the precarious cliff of sanity. If Freud and Jung were still alive, they'd want to cut out my subconscious and freeze it for further study. Listen to this:

A few nights ago, I dreamed I was laying on my bathroom floor. The tiles felt cold against my hot face, and my tongue felt as if I'd been sucking a porcupine Jolly Rancher. I pushed myself up off the floor and felt dizzy, my head weighed down by something other than sobriety. I was clearly not in my right state of mind, yet I couldn't peg this as mere drunkenness. I've been drunk before, but this was different, something I'd not yet experienced in real life. My brain fumbled around for excuses--what was this feeling?--before I concluded that yes, I was certainly drunk, but I was also on something other than booze. I assume I was my subconscious mind's interpretation of high. If I can be less polite about it, I was tore up from the floor up. I turned over and propped myself against the bathtub. "What the hell did I do tonight?" I thought.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang on the door. Immediately, my COPDAR went off. Gay people have gaydar; Black folks have Copdar. I can peg undercover cops just by looking at them. My Copdar suspicions were verified by a loud, ominous voice at the door: "This is the police! Open up!" The officer was a big White guy (my dream cut to the door so I could see him) and he had one of those battering rams. Vocally, however, he sounded like Don Cornelius. This is the only part of the dream I can explain, as I'd just read that Don had been arrested for beating his wife with the Soul Train Scramble Board. My subconscious is like a sponge, and details I pick up during the day make their way into my dreams on occasion.

Officer Don banged again. "Open up this door!"

The jolt of adrenaline seemed to clear my fog momentarily. Panic came over me in waves. I knew I was in some deep shit, a thought notion made real when I looked into my bathtub. There were bags and bags and bags of white powder sitting in the tub. "That shit's drugs!!" I screamed in a voice that didn't sound like me. "Whose voice is this?" I asked myself, but didn't have time to investigate nor think about it. I had to get rid of whatever the hell this was in my tub.

Ferociously, I started ripping the bags open, dumping them in the toilet and flushing. Outside, I could hear Officer Don breaking down the door. The toilet became congested and clogged up, refusing to flush. Powder was flying everywhere. I could hear the door coming off the hinges outside, followed by the rush of several pairs of feet stomping on the floor. I thought I was going to have a heart attack.

Officer Don was now at the bathroom door. "It's all over, honey," he said. "Come out with your hands up."

Did he just call me "honey?!" I asked myself.

"You give me no choice, sweetheart," he said. "I'm coming in!"

Sweetheart? Honey?

BANG! BANG! The door started to give way. I stood up ready to fight. There was a Moet bottle in the sink. I grabbed it and held it, ready to clobber this guy as soon as he broke down the door. Nobody calls ME sweetheart! As I picked it up, I noticed I wasn't alone in the bathroom. There was a woman in there with me. A White woman! "Oh LORD!" I said in my odd dream voice. "How did I wind up shitfaced in the bathroom with a White woman? I'm so dead! I am DEAD!"

Then I realized I was alone in there. The White woman I saw was being reflected in the mirror. And she had a beehive, too much makeup, and killer eyelashes. "What the hell?" I asked, suddenly realizing why my voice sounded so odd, not to mention why it had a British accent.

I was Amy Winehouse.

"What da fu--" I said, just as the door gave way with a loud BAM!

I woke up.

I think it's time to change this blood pressure medicine, don't you?

Another Vote Or Get Your Ass Whipped Commercial

Odienator here.

It's Election Eve, ladies and gentlemen, and once again, I'm here providing a public service message on Big Media Vandalism. On Super Tuesday, I introduced my get out the vote campaign, which I called Vote or Get Your Ass Whipped because Puffy had already trademarked Vote Or Die. I'm a far less violent Negro than Diddy, which is probably why BET wouldn't run my prior ad. I don't expect them to run this one either. Kudos to BMV for allowing me to get the message out.

I'm not here to tell you whom to vote for, because if I had the power to sway you, I'd ask for something more important, like the keys to your BMW or Halle Berry's phone number. This is just to guilt you into voting. I'll let my commercial speak for itself.

(Roll commercial)

(On a university campus)

Ray-Ray: Hey, Dr. Boone!

Dr. Boone: Hello, young man. You're Raymond Aloysious D'Shawn Washington. You're in my Punany Power 101 class.

Ray-Ray: Yes sir. I'm learning so much, but I'm struggling with the homework.

Dr. B: Perhaps I can help. I'm on my way to the polling place. Would you like to walk with me? We can discuss the assignment while we wait on line to vote. Or have you voted already?

Ray-Ray: Naw. I'm not voting, Dr. Boone.

Dr. B: (stops walking and turns to Ray Ray) You're not voting?!

Ray-Ray: Naw, Joe says that my candidate has the vote in the bag already.

Dr. B: Joe? You mean R&B singer Joe?!

Ray-Ray: Yeah, Joe the Singer.

Dr. B: You actually listened to that fool? Raymond Aloysius D'Shawn Washington, come with me! (Grabs Ray-Ray by the arm.)

(In Dr. Boone's office)

Ray-Ray: Dr. Boone, what's going on? Am I in trouble?

Dr. B: (sternly) I need you to talk to a friend of mine. (Throws hands up in the air) MAMA COO MAMA SAH MAKU-MAKU-SAH! ITCHY GITCHY YAH YAH DAH DAH!

Ray-Ray: Whoa! If you practicing voodoo, I need to leave man!

Dr. B: (speaking backwards)

Ray-Ray: I'm out! You possessed by Missy Elliot! (Goes to leave)

(A loud explosion blocks the door)

Ray-Ray: What the fu--?! Holy mac and cheese! Frederick Douglass!

Frederick Douglass: (played by Sam Jackson wearing his Unbreakable hairstyle) Young man, would you kindly explain to me why you're not voting?

Ray-Ray: (in shock) What?

FD: What country are you from, boy?

Ray-Ray: (still in shock) What?

FD: DO THEY SPEAK ENGLISH IN WHAT?!

Ray-Ray: Uh...uh...I'm from Newark, Mr. Douglass! They speak Ebonics and stuff in Newark. I'm not voting because my candidate doesn't need my vote.

FD: Does your candidate look like the President?

Ray-Ray: What?

FD: (pulls out a whip, one of those Massa-Beat-Yo-Ass whips) SAY WHAT AGAIN! SAY WHAT AGAIN! I DARE YOU! ANSWER MY QUESTION!

Ray-Ray: No, he isn't the President.

FD: Then why are you treating him like your President?

Ray-Ray: What?

(The whip flies through the air. CRACK!)

Ray-Ray: Ouch! Ouch! TOBY! (Rubs ass) Damn, Mr Douglass!

FD: Answer me, boy! I didn't take all those ass whippings so trifling jackasses like you can piss on my memory! (raising whip)

Ray-Ray: OK OK! I get it! I'll go vote! My vote counts!

FD: You know I once ran as a VP candidate.

Ray-Ray: Oh yeah? Like Sarah Palin?

(CRACK!!!)

Ray-Ray: (rubbing ass) Ow! What was that for?!

FD: (under his breath) Smart ass muthafu--

Dr. B: Mr. Douglass, I think the young man has gotten the point. Haven't you, Raymond?

Ray-Ray: Yes sir! Let's go vote now!

FD: I'm glad I could help, Dr. Boone. Now excuse me, I have to go put my righteous foot in the ass of the fool who switched the Obama button with the McCain button on those voting machines in swing states.

Dr. B: Peace out. Let's go Raymond.

Announcer: Vote, or get your ass whipped by the ghosts of your ancestors!

Do it, people! VOTE!