DUANE, HOW DARE YOU RUIN MY COUNTRY ESTATE

The night was hot, and I was flipping around in my bed. The loud sounds of construction machinery woke me up, and I was highly pissed about this. How dare they wake me up from my sleep at this hour. What time was it? Didn't matter.

I woke up and found I was in my large, palace like estate. My room was four times bigger than my house, the sole piece of furniture was my large bed, with four posts holding up flowing curtains, trying to shield the interior of the bed from this noisy intrusion. I was wearing a red robe and put on a smoking jacket.

I walked across the room and pushed open the doors which led to a large semi circle veranda. It had a marble fence enclosing it and a checkerboard marble pattern for the floor. I put my hands on the marble and looked out at my large country estate, spread out for acres. In the distance, a good forest for a fox hunt.

And there, below me, my friend Duane was digging a swimming pool like hole in the ground in front of me with a back hoe. As usual, he was sporting overalls with patches and ornate tiny bits of scrap metal sewn into them, his spiky bleach hair above the determined look on his face.

"DUANE!" I screamed, "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!"

He heard my screaming, vaguely, looked up and saw me, waved and gave the thumbs up.

"NO!" I screamed, "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!"

He looked up to me again, then held his hand to his ear, indicating he could not hear me.

I ran down my marble spiral staircase, adjusting my smoking jacket, my barefeet slapping the stairs. I pushed open the front doors and ran out into the estate. I ran up to the machine and frantically began yelling at Duane. He killed the ignition.

"Hey dude." He said.

"Duane! What the HELL are you doing?!" I cried.

"Oh, Warick told me to dig here for minerals." Warick is the bartender and proprietor of a punk bar here in Milwaukee called Circle A.

"Warick?!" I yelled, "What the fuck does Warick know about minerals?! He runs a fucking bar!" Duane frowned at me and reached to switch the ignition back on.

"Hey, you're going to have to talk to him about this. It might be your land, but it was his idea." I stood there dumbfounded as he started in on the digging.

I woke up and still heard the digging. I walked to the window of my apartment and saw the City of Milwaukee workers digging up the street in front of my house.

There's a joke about Wisconsin, that there's really only two seasons- Winter and Construction.