I woke up today with those words in my head.
It sounds like something, doesn’t it? A wrestling move, a pickpocket in a Chinatown tea-house, a new sexual position? Who knows? To the best of my knowledge, there is no such thing as a One-Armed Surprise. (A quick Google search revealed nothing, thankfully. That could have gone quickly off the rails, as Google searches often do.) My brain was reconstituting after a respectably hard sleep and hadn’t quite realigned itself with reality, chucking random notions together.
D.J.’s Brain: “I have a feeling these things don’t match, but fuck it: One-Armed Surprise. Chew on that, douche-bag. Moron probably won’t even notice…”
Picking through the thoughts swirling around in my head during those groggy first moments of the day is like panning for gold or trying to locate one more peanut hiding in a box of Cracker Jack. What will I stumble over and will it be worth anything? Sometimes I get good stuff in those moments before sleep, but they’re harder to remember and are tainted with the stink of the day that came before. The really good bits, the morsels that carry never-ending promise, are found in the morning, when my sub-conscious had all night to dredge the swamp, churning long-forgotten chunks back up to the surface to co-mingle with the tried and true. I never know what I’m going to get. Today, amongst appearances by old crushes, subway platforms to nowhere, and costumed sports mascots frolicking on the beach, I got One-Armed Surprise.
Who knows if that will ever wind up in the book or in a story all its own, but it absolutely, positively sounds like something.