Childhood Dreams; Shattered

I had a dream when I was a child. I would dream that I was that lucky child on The Bozo Show that had the chance to play The GRAND PRIZE GAME! Many an early morning would I stare raptly at my television screen, while my mother shouted in the background about how I would go blind if I didn't move back, waiting for the GRAND PRIZE GAME portion of the show.

Each time the show came to that point, I would mentally play the game as if I were the child on the screen. I would toss that little ping pong ball into Bucket #1, and hear the satisfying little thunk it made as I effortlessly made it in. I would smile toothily for the camera, and pose with the Greatest Clown on Earth, Bozo.

I would make my way down the line, each little ping pong ball thunking nicely into the buckets as I made my way to Bucket #6. Many days I would have to live out my dream by my lonesome, since those darned kids on the show couldn't handle getting past Buckets #2 or 3. My dreams always ended with me nonchalantly tossing that cherished little ball into the air, with it landing nicely into Bucket #6 after swishing and teetering on the edge of the rim, to the "ooh's" and "aah's" of the crowd. After I was awarded my grandest of grand prizes each and every time, the audience would thunderously roar for an encore performance, and I would repeatedly sink that precious ball again and again.

By the time my mother interrupted me from my daydreams, I had won nearly everything but that Mansion in Beverly Hills that I dreamed of at the tender age of 6, 7, and 8. Possibly longer, but I wouldn't want to look like a foolish child for holding onto horrible dreams for so long.

Last night, I dreamed that I was on The Bozo Show. As dreams go, I was every character on the set at one time. My dream began with the opening credits, and me blasting onto the screen as none other than Bozo the Clown!
Don't ask why I have the head that I sported at 2 years old. It was a dream. Dreams do odd things, like revert us to the scabby-kneed, thumb-sucking, bed-wetting inner selves that we really are.

A little into the show, and the ever faithful sidekick, Cooky, hops onto stage. You can tell from the look on his face during every episode that he's really plotting of ways to kill off that big nosed red haired freak so he can be the center of attraction.
On with the show, and my delightful 2 year old self is loving the hopes and dreams that I'm able to fulfill at, albeit, such a late point in my life. No Bozo Show would be complete without the main attraction, Wizzo the Wiz! I would repeat his catch phrase for hours on end after watching each show... "Doody doody doody dooooo" in his oddly hypnotic voice, while trying to induce the twilight zone warp with his eyes. Mind you, repeating this phrase would entail being chased down by my mother and having the back of my pants pulled out so she could check to see if I had forgotten where the bathroom was. Even at the age of 8. I don't think she ever quite paid attention to the show.Yup, there's Cooky again. Trying to steal the limelight. He wanted to be a one man show. Yes, I realize that I'm both of them. Minds are evil things, and I wonder why I think I might have multiple personalities. It's the dreams, I tell ya!

The show ended with the grandest finale of all, the GRAND PRIZE GAME! My mind relived every childhood memory that I had ever played out, all of the way up to winning that mansion in Beverly Hills.
I think it would be in your best interest, as well as mine, to not wonder why I'm some short, fat dude with hairy legs. Again, I blame it on the dreams.