I had the worst dream last night.

Drink this and tell me all about it.

Well I was in my room and my cat was all yowling and being fussy.

Your cat? Yes, what is his name again?

Mister Floppybutt.

Dignified to the end.

Well Flopps was being was angrier than normal.

Perhaps in response to his name.

He likes his name!

Dearling, no one likes the name Mister Floppybutt. Would you like it if I called you Floppybutt?

My butt isn’t floppy!

No, it is fairly pert.

Why thank you.

Don’t consider it. But my point stands on its feet. Yes! Let us consider your butt.

Uhm?

Let us say if it was floppy. Sad Melina, butt quite floppy.

I am sad. I don’t want a floppy butt.

Of course not, no one does. But let us say then that it is. Would you then be all right if I called you Floppybutt?

No!

There you go then! Why do you think your precious feline there enjoys it?

He doesn’t speak English, for one.

Ahh oppressing the lower classes.

I was talking about my horrible dream!

So sorry, do go on.

And so I went out to see what was wrong with Mister Flo… the cat, and he was chasing a bug.

A bug?

A giant bug. Huge brown and black thing, back like a beetles but the size of my foot. Giant bug! And Mist… the cat caught up with the bug and pounced!

Oh dear, I’m so sorry honey.

Huh?

That you dreamt your cat got killed by a horrible oversized bug. I do, admittedly, wonder what it all means, but we can discuss that after another drink.

No, he didn’t get killed by the bug. He ripped it to shreds!

Then what is the problem?

Inside the bug!

Yes?

Was a duck.

Inside the big evil bug that your cat tore apart there was a duck? A living duck?

No, it was like a rubber ducky. But it was alive. Just made of rubber and bright yellow.

Inside the bug?

Yes! Inside the bug! Why is this funny?

Because, dearling, you are horrified by a rubber duck inside a giant bug. I can not even begin to explain the problems there, or what it might mean or even why it would be horrible.

It was just horrible.

Woke up all freakazoid and confuseled?

Yeah. Been that way all day.

Over a duck inside a bug?

You don’t have to make fun of me for it!

Oh, honey, no, but look at it from my end. Just explain what was so horrible about it?

I… well the duck was alive, but rubber. And it looked at me with a beady painted-on eye. And I think it was mad that I let the cat rip its ride to bits.

Dear lord.

Exactly!

No, not about how horrible it was but that I simply can not understand your unconscious mind one iota. Not one.

Why do I even tell you these things?

Because with me the laughter starts at least two beats after it would with the others?

Yeeeah.

There there.

So is Mister Floppybutt really a bad name?