Dane Cook Follow

Thinking about my future, start thinking about my dream house. Gosh, can’t wait. Everybody’s got a dream house. The house of your dreams. You lay in bed, you dream about it. All the fascinating items you’ll have one day, and it can be anything you want, dreamers. Anything. Maybe instead of hallways, you want canals that you swim down. Maybe at the bottom of your cereal bowls you want mirrors so you can say hello to yourself after you drink the milk. “Hello, me.” Dream it, you fucking dreamers. It’s your dream house. Maybe you flush the toilet, the toilet goes, “Thanks for shitting in me. I enjoyed your shit.” Why not? It’s your house. I have my dream house, and here it is right here. I’ve always wanted a mystery house ever since i’ve been young. I’m gonna have it some day too. If i’m having a party, i want that giant bookshelf that i can go up to, and when no one’s looking, i pull the big green book. All of a sudden, i’m in a lab with bunson burners going. Elixirs and schematics. I don’t even know what schematics are, but i want them back there cause i know schematics belong in labs. I even love that creak. I’m not even gonna WD-40 the sound out. I want the ambiance. Little secret hallways that you have to run around like this. You never make secret hallways normal height so its convenient. They always have to be almost uncomfortable like, “why the fuck did i build them like this?” Where’s my lab? Oh, i’ve always wanted to be able to look through pictures’ eyes. I can’t wait to have the pictures with eyes so i can look out through. “Are they really enjoying my party?” and hope that no one is standing in front of the picture going, “its a horse with an equestrian, but it looks like Dane’s eyes.” “OW!” “I just poked the horse’s eyes and it sounded like Dane getting poked in the eye.” “AHH!” “Wouldn’t you say its almost like Dane’s behind there looking through the horse’s eyes.” “AHH! Why am i still looking?!” “See? Dane!” In my mystery house, i don’t want guards, i don’t want 911 or alarms. I want trap doors that i will own and operate. And here’s the thing: I don’t have the trap doors. I don’t even have the house yet, but i’m already excited at the possiblility of a bandit coming into my home to steal – i get goosebumps. Look at this!- thinking about a bandit stealing so i can use my trap god-damn doors. I think i would be so excited that i would leave a path of expensive gadgets just strewn about in the street up into my house just to coax a bandit up inside. I would hide behind the pictures’ eyes, and wait. With my schematics. I don’t think i could even wait to be robbed. I thinki would have to use my trap doors on family, friends, loved ones. I’d be too exicted. My girlfriend would be like, “you said you washed theses dishes a week ago and they’re starting to stink.” “Actually what i said was –--“ “AHH!” “Yes. Now you’re in a swamp three miles away. Hahaha.” That’s right. I gotta have a swamp too. Gotta have a swamp. Either a swamp, our a marsh full of marshmallows. MARSHmallows. That would be kind of funny too. Cause you’d be pissed about the trap door, but if you land in marshmallows, you’d have to kind of be like, “Oh god. I landed in marshmallows. How mad can I be?”