TEN FOUR
WOW: nut. Dean needs to rethink his TV viewing.
Disclaimer: No, I don't own them!
xxxxx
Dean woke with a start, heart pounding, face glistening with a sheen of sweat. Scraping his damp hair back off his forehead with a shaking hand, he blew out a shuddering breath.
Damn, that was nuts!
He'd just dreamed he was being chased by a massive swarm - flock – herd – whatever the hell you call a bunch of them – of rubber ducks; hundreds of the damn things, pursuing him relentlessly, quacking insanely as they pecked at his ankles, their evil little painted-on eyes glimmering with malice.
Okay, that's it. No more watching 'Convoy' until three o'clock in the morning ever again.
xxxxx
end
