Do Not Seek The Treasure

I wake up in a psych ward, surrounded by my family. “We have something to tell you,” my mom says reluctantly. “You don’t actually have a dog. You created Tulo in your head. You’ve actually just been dragging a loaf of Wonder Bread around for two years. It finally got so moldy and stinky, we had to do something about it. We couldn’t play along anymore.”

“WHERE’S TULO?” I scream. As I try to get up, the restraints tighten around my wrists and ankles.

My dad pulls a plastic bag full of black gunk from behind his back. “Jeff…this…this is Tulo.”

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?! NOOOOOOO! TULOOOO!!! WHYYYYY???”

6 or 7 minutes in, I get an uneasy feeling in my stomach. I knew I shouldn’t have taken a spot on the front row.  I get off my bike and hunch over; I begin to vomit.  The entire spin class slows its pedaling pace to watch me.  A beautiful foam of fluorescent yellow and hot pink emerges from my mouth and splatters on the ground in front of the instructor.

“YOU ACT LIKE YOU’VE NEVER SEEN MARSHMALLOW PEEPS” I have to yell over the speakers playing a very loud and obnoxious(er) version of a Maroon 5 song, “THEY’RE AMERICA’S MOST POPULAR EASTER CANDY AND THEY’RE DELICIOUS.”

I grab my water bottle, and sashay through the maze of cyclists. As I exit the gym, the music slowly fades behind me. I’m feeling much better now.

Turns out I have 146 Tumblr “followers.”  Where did you all come from?  Who are you?  Is one of you my dad?  Just in case: come back, dad!  I’m sorry I didn’t hold the flashlight still enough for you while you were working on the car.

I wake up hungry. I reach into the package of Coconut Dreams cookies. My conscience chimes in, “NO, not until you eat some breakfast first!” Annoyed, but in agreement, I pull my hand out of the cookie package. I pour myself a heaping bowl of Fruity Pebbles. I eat it, then follow it up with another. Then I enjoy 4 Coconut Dreams cookies. My conscience and I rest easily.