The Scout Chronicles: I Think Someone is Trying to Pull an "Inception" on my Ass

Although I can't be 100% sure, I think I'm being Inceptioned. And if the movie taught me anything, it's that you don't even know you are being Inceptioned. What I do know is that if I wake up at any moment and see Leonardo DiCaprio, I will bite that handsome son-of-a-bitch into next fucking week. The Scoutmeister is not going to be played for a fool. I haven't actually seen DiCaprio, but this is how I think it went down: I went to Higgins Animal Clinic, which is a pretty normal occurrence for me. My homegirl Dr. Barcyzk gave me a shot--and this is where I think it all went wrong. I am only speculating, but I think when I wasn't looking DiCaprio actually snuck into the room and administered the shot. Now I don't know what is real or what has been dreamscaped just to fuck with Scout. I've checked my treat cabinet about 100 times, and it appears that no one has stolen my sweet potato treats. That was my original suspicion. But now I'm starting to think that something much more sinister is at foot. While I was knocked out on goofballs administered during that shot, presumably, the perpetrators brought Ellen Page into my condo to do some of that mental architectural rebuilding of my surroundings. Speaking of Ellen Page, is she hot or not? Sometimes I want to hump the ever living shit out of her leg. Other times I'm like, "eh, I'd let her pet me". What the fuck is the deal with her? Anyway, she has been slowly dreamscaping my condo and now I don't know which way is up and which way is goodamned loose. Everything is helter-skelter and the Scoutmesiter is fit to be tied.

-I come home one day and the desk in the living room is gone. Apparently dreamscaped into the bedroom. "Well Scout, the desk is still in the house, what is the big deal?" you say. Let me tell you what the big deal is asshole--I used to lay under the desk in the living room and monitor Seward Park out the window as my duties of "Guardian Angel" dictate. Now I have to worry about shit falling on me from above. Kind of stressful, so cut me some fucking slack here.

-Way bigger problem: My goddamned day bed is gone. I used to spend half my day on this thing. Worse yet, it didn't get moved somewhere else. Fucker is gonezo, outright. Up and vanished like a fart in the wind. And in its stead is some weird thing I cannot identify. It is sort of like a bed, only smaller and enclosed on all sides. I mean there are spaces between all the slats so I can look in, but I lack the height or jumping ability to actually get over the railing and onto the mattress to see what it is all about. My only guess is that it is a bed designed for tiny humans, and it would seem the intention is that they not be allowed to escape. Doesn't look too fucking comfortable if you ask me.

-My favorite chair in the living room, also totally gone. I've looked for it everywhere; in the trash cans, in the bathtub, in the sink, under the sofa.....nowheres to be found. I spent another quarter of my day on that chair. And I also liked to look at myself in the mirror behind, which has moved to a new location to make room for....

-A useless set of fucking drawers now sits against the wall. The drawers are chocked full of tiny assed clothes. Ummmm, clothes don't fit mom and dad, and Scout doesn't wear clothes. Seems like a pretty sensible item they had Ellen dreamscape into my condo. Bravo assholes. The drawers are also full of these water bottle thingys, that according to the photos on the package, you drink milk from. Another huge waste of resources. Just wait until your mom and dad are finished with their cereal and lick the milk out of the bottom of the bowl. Works just fine for me, but if you want your fancy water bottles then go for it.

So the Scoutmeister has reacted to this Inception'ing the only way the Scoutmeister can: I started chewing the fuck out of things. Mostly I've focused on all these new books that have suddenly appeared as well. They have a central theme; all feature a cover picture of various minuscule humanoids, all of whom are bald and shirtless. Some are in pink underwear, others blue. Don't ask me, I just tell it like I see it.

One positive is that Ellen Page dreamscaped me a dog bed from Orvis. This thing is the cat's ass. The bed is memory foam. I'm pretty sure some cedar or poly fill would have sufficed, but if it's no sweat off Ellen's dream architecture nuts to create me a yuppie dog bed at 4 times the cost, I'm certainly not complaining.

I'm going to ride this storm out and see what happens. You never know, maybe I wake up and everything is back to normal soon. However, and I can't be any clearer about this, if shit doesn't quit getting weird-and fast-I reserve the right to bite every mutherfucker involved in this Inception, from DiCaprio right on down. Riddle me this Ellen page: If you are in a dream within a dream, and I take a dump right in the middle of the floor of that dream, can you dreamscape that off the floor?

P.S.--Don't tell mom but her belly has gotten HUGE the past few months.....what the fuck is up with that?