Love comes to Ronny Elliott. In my dreams! No, really. In my dreams. I woke up dreaming that I was trying to get to Bradenton to see Burt Bacharach performing at some snooty country club. I was scaling a brick wall, worrying about crossing the bay once I was over the top. A woman was with me, clearly my love interest in this epic event. Funny, the girl seems to be the inconceivable element.
My grandmother always told me not to reveal my dreams before breakfast, that they would come true. Well, sir, I'm sitting here eating a guava and cheese pastry as I write this drivel. Does this qualify as "before breakfast?"
As you know by now I have been pronounced socially awkward. By two women. Well, maybe pronounced socially awkward by one and confirmed by another. Let's face it- if all of the women I have loved get together to compare notes, I probably won't even make socially awkward.
Sticks and stones, girls. Sticks and stones. I may be socially awkward but I'm clever. Well, I'm buoyant.
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