Lighten up Poole!!!

Damn!

That last blog was a massive downer! Let’s liven things up with a blast from the recent past! Here is the transcript of the guy who had the bottom bunk of which I was the top the third night I was in Chicago. The gentleman, peaceful and polite when awake, was a sleeptalker, sleep singer , sleep moaner and sleep groaner. His sleep diction was perfect, in fact he spoke clearer when asleep! The following is an accurate script form several hours one late February night in a Hostel in Chicago. When reading his lines unless directed, always read them with a bright loud tone.


One last note: though impossible to sleep through, it was all still pretty damn funny, especially as I had come back late into the room, but had figured out a way to change in the closet and thereby not wake up my companions! And with the adroitness of a Boy Scout I changed to my night-togs, lept soundlessly into the top bunk and laid back dreaming of Lady Russian academics
with mysterious smiles. Two second later:

BOTTOM: Well Mr.Martin? Were those curbs big enough?

TOP(Me):Oh! Dude, sorry I thought I was being quiet. . .

BOTTOM:Certainly we’ll find the coat rack. Keep those curbs drifting Mr. Martin!

TOP: (eyes suddenly wide).. . Uh. . .

(silence falls for twenty seconds)

BOTTOM: ( there are notes, but the actual song is indiscernible) mmmmmmmmmnnuh. Mmmmmmmmmnuh nuh nuh nuh nuh mmmmmMMMMMMMMMMMMm YEAH! Num num num num YEAH ahahahahahaha ahah ha!

TOP: (eyes extremely wide, all sleepiness is gone, I am wide awake)

(Silence for 45 seconds. I am lulled into thinking it’s over)

BOTTOM: Oooh yes we can! Yep! Yes! Find it the way you left it! Johnson, you and Fairly get the rutabaga. Get it! Yes I said get it! If you don’t then it go wrong. Very wrong. Mattresses?
Yep!

BOTTOM: (violently tosses in bed, kicking at the mattress) If you don’t take care of it someone else will! I know where the frying pan is, Margaret! Ha! Yeah?
What? Sure? Where? Yes. Yes. Yes. NO! If you think best.

(SIlencefalls for about three minutes, again lulled into a false sense of peace)

BOTTOM: (softly at first) nnnnnn . . . . . .hhhnnnn. . . . .hnnnnnn. . . . . .hnnnnn . . .
.(volume picks up) NNNNNNN HUHN huuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnnnnh MAAAAAHHHH!
MAAAH! (hard kick on bunk) mah mah!!

TOP: You gotta be shittin’ me.

BOTTOM:Yeah?! Yeah! Yeah! I’m gonna get some. A lot? You know it! Let’s all get some
of that sweet honey bear! Heh, heh. Heheheheheheh. MMMMMmmmmn nnnnnnlal lala. lalalloo laaaoooooo

(Silence falls, I am not fooled.)

BOTTOM: Hitler HitlerHitler Hitler Hitler Hitler Hitler Hitler Hitler Hitler Hitler Hitler Hitler HitlerHitler Hitler Hitler Hitler Hitler Hitler Hitler Hitler Hitler Hitler Hitler Hitler
Hitler Hitler Hitler Hitler!

TOP: (eyes could not be more wide)

BOTTOM:WHoooooooooo. Tummy mummm uumm hum hum mmmananna.




This all continued for the entire night.


He’s a nice guy. He just says Hitler a lot when he sleeps.