I woke this morning from dreaming I was at Interbike, the big annual North American bike show. All of the usual Interbike people were there.
Missing, however, were the bikes and anything to do with bikes. Interbike Marketing Manager Rich Kelly explained to me that their bold experiment to expand opportunities for the local bike shop by selling stuff besides bikes and bike accessories. Vendors from all around the world hawked Super Soaker knock offs and other cheap toys, but couldn’t understand why the
toy bike shop owners wouldn’t talk with them.
As I wandered from vendor to vendor, I ran across a book stall selling what looked to be Tom Clancy style military fiction. They turn out, instead, to be poorly translated English editions of Soviet era spy thriller novels printed on cheap paper, with titles like The Hunt for the Spirit of 76, Blue Storm Rising, and The Bluejay of the Beltway.
I’m reading an old Soviet Cold War “Duck and Cover” pamphlet when a babushka motions that she wants to show me something. She takes me behind the book shelves to show me immense tanks filled with goldfish, koi and unidentifiable mutant fish. And cryptically, she tells me in heavily accented English “No pictures, but I have kolokanth fish. Very rare.”
I stare into the murky tank she points into and I see a flash of a pale, monstrous primitive creature. “Do you mean a coelocanth?” I ask, pronouncing it (correctly) SEE-lah-kanth. “Aren’t those extinct?”
(Yes, I realize coelocanth’s aren’t extinct, but this was a dream.)
“Yes, like you say – coelocanth,” said the babushka, “and no, not extinct. I discover at secret KGB laboratory 20 year ago.”
At this point, I see the ceolocanth push its way out of the water and nudge itself along the floor using its lobed fins. This ugly, primitive fish drags himself to a bowl of dog food which he gulp up ravenously. He then looks up at the babushka with big, almost mammalian eyes, wags his fleshy tail like a puppy, and that’s when I wake up. The end.