“It’s the early nineties or something. You can tell because I’m wearing a neon-pink tank top, bike shorts, and sneakers. And I’ve got an epic flat-top. I’m in my parents’ house. Instead of my mom’s yoga studio, the living room is an actual living room, with a couch, coffee table, and everything. I’m kneeling in front of the VCR, and am hastily fast-forwarding through a stack of videotapes. David Arkenstone, David Lanz, Mars Lasar, Patrick O’Hearn, John Tesh, and Yanni have formed the ultimate New Age supergroup, and are doing a live concert on PBS that’s coming on in five minutes, and I’ve just got to record it, or else the known world will come to an end. But all I can find are tapes with half an hour here, ten minutes there between episodes of Mr. Belvedere and Star Trek: The Next Generation—you know, important stuff I’m not about to erase—nothing, though, with enough space for a full ninety-minute concert.

“The best I can come up with is half an hour at the end of a TDK T-120 tape crammed with a handful of really good The Simpsons episodes. Here’s the thing: that’s in SP mode. I could use SLP mode to get a full ninety minutes of recording time, but the sound and video quality would be terrible. So, I’m stuck with, like, a minute to go before the concert starts, and I have to decide if I’m going to record the full show using crap SLP, or the first half-hour in high quality using SP.

“What does the dream mean?”

Dr. Chandelier shifts loudly in his leather armchair, thinks for a sec. “Ever hear of a wet dream, my boy?”

I blush. “Yeah.”

“This would be the exact opposite of that.”

Dookie, a cheesy horror novel by Jesse Gordon

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Published by

Jesse Gordon

Geek. Writer. Supreme overlord of the SUPERMEGANET pseudoverse. Author of THE OATMEAL MAN, DOOKIE, and other such wasteful nonsense.