Weird dreams, just like all the other weird dreams

So All I remember is that there was a poisonous snake trying to bite people, and I did something weird that prevented the snake from killing anyone, but somehow I accidentally got venom in my mouth, so I was trying to wash it out and hoping that I wouldn't die, The other moment I remember is of trying to explain, in French, to some people that there was a snake, two in fact, and although I had rescued everyone else, I hoped I wasn't going to die. The two main dilemmas were making sure I washed out my mouth thoroughly and trying to parler francaise sans parler des mots Chinoise au lieu de les mots Francaises. That seems to be a common problem these days.

More stories about miss Melville

I am especially fond of her.
There is a certain art to making up icebreakers. It has to be embarrassing for everyone involved, and yet there have to be enough people in the world to revel in that embarrassment.
"Ok, in this start up, we're going to briefly tell how your parents met, and one important decision they each had to make to meet."
Melville fumbled at realizing how once again she should have made it more simply. While the group gave her puzzled looks and some actually thought about it a little, she repeated, "Does that make sense? I mean think about how your parents met. Summarize in a couple of sentences," she spoke quickly and awkwardly. Like she was running over the words and tripping. "And think about the decisions they had to make for you to be born."
After another awkward pause of wondering whether they even knew what she was trying to say, and Norton giving her another repulsive pitying look, she stuttered on to say, as she continued to think about how ashamed she was of Norton and how painfully she regretted the way he felt about her. "Like, for me, my parents met at a really unusual conference for believing inventors. But that's not the interesting part. My Mom made a really interesting decision in marrying my dad. To keep it short, if she hadn't decided to do things the way she did, I would never have been born."
"Wait, so how did she make the decision?" asked miss Warren.
"Well, it was really weird, but she didn't make the decision herself, who to be with. I mean, there were these two guys and she wasn't in love with these guys, but she figured that she couldn't trust the way she felt because she tended to attach emotionally to really bad guys. Anyway, she saw two guys as really good candidates, so she told both of them what she thought, that she could be happy with either of them, but she wanted them to decide between themselves, who should marry her. And they both liked her, and they were really good friends, and strong believers. Really, only they could have handled it the way it was. They'd all been through a lot, these two guys and my mom, so I guess they had and understanding."
'Yeah, that is weird," said Mr. Handford.
"But, anyway, let's move on. I hope your parents aren't as odd as mine are."
"Ok," said Hanford, "My parents went to school together. They lived on the same floor of the dorm."
Miss Lilley betrayed a spark of happy thoughts. Her current target lived on her floor.
"Wait, so how did they decide which guy was going to be your dad, I mean, which of two guys was your dad?"
"Well, actually, it wasn't--Uh, can we talk about this afterwards? I want to get through this study, We can be quick, honest."

So they hurried through whatever section it was, probably Rebecka, including applications, even faster than Melville usually did them. As soon as Melville breathed, "ok, we're done," Joy Warren started with, "Ok, so which of the two guys was your dad?"
"Well, it turned out each guy admitted he loved my mom, and they could each see that the other loved her, too. Now, one was older than she was while the other was younger than her. And she honestly had long hoped for an older guy, as easier to respect. But the older one was also blond, which was too bad because she had never intended to marry a blond, although it was understood that superficialities shouldn't matter.
"And of course, being the good men they were, neither would deny his friend, and they were like 'you deserve her,' 'No, you do.' 'No, I think you're better for her.' 'I can't imagine forcing you to live without her.' 'I can't take her away from you either.' and it went on and on. It was so crazy."
As the story came to its climax, Melville's mother had seen both men a little later, and they still hadn't decided. She told them that she wanted their decision whenever it came, and she could wait for it. If it was best, she wanted to see them as little as possible until then, so they wouldn't feel pressured. She also said she wanted them to do a whole lot of praying together, rather than trying to reason through it. So they did. It was a long time before they saw her again. She was smart, though, she had them communicating with her mentor, so she was the one that made sure she was home when they went to her with the final decision.
She opened to door to see them both standing side by side, pressed close and filling the whole doorway, looking serious and ecstatic and struggling to settle on the appropriate expression.
She herself tried to be calm, but of course this was a big deal. She didn't even invite them inside because she was so nervous and didn't have any talent with manners, anyway.
So she tried to read their faces to see if she could guess before they told her. She acknowledged she was being selfish in doing so, though. But they had the same expression. And neither one would speak.
"So," Said the future Mrs. Melville.
"So," said both men, together.
"We decided," One said
"We picked out the ring together," said the other. This stabbed her with a new wash of emotion. She hadn't put them and the ring together in her thoughts.
"It was after we picked out the man, though," One of them started again.
"Because..." the other said
"Because..." the first repeated.
"Well, because he picked the ring out with us."
"And we knew it had to be him, not us."
They stepped each to the side and behind them was Mr. Melville, on both knees, holding the ring. Tall, black-haired, handsome older Mr. Melville. Of course he had been the one. She had almost forgotten him. And all her efforts to remain serious failed there.

Being a fiction Writer is like being a ventriloquist. You have all these offensive things to say, so you make the little guy on your lap say them.

A fictional story. Not Venting, honest

"I'm going to tell a story. I'm a guy, though," Said Miss Melville, the last part in passing. and it brought nothing but a very unattractive dumbfounded stare from Norton, as though he was watching her lips move without any audio and was straining to determine what she was trying to say.
Melville was overcome with the urge to take an hour explaining what she had just said but resisted on the reasoning that for someone of Norton's capacity, it would do more harm than good. It would also offend him more than what she was already planning to say.
"I'm a guy, ok, and I have this car." Norton's face brightened at the mention of a car, but otherwise maintained the same look of stupidity it so regularly displayed. Melville was highly distracted by many new observations about how ugly her friend was, noticing new unsightliness in his features, but she struggled to focus on telling the story.
"I like driving my car to visit my friends. I also really like working on my car, so sometimes I do both. I go visit my friends to be in their company, and sometimes I work on my car in their garages."
"Giiiiiiirl, you don't know anything about cars...."
Melville reflected another moment on how much she hated Norton and his ugly red face in that instant, and continued.
"Let me remind you this is a story. And I'm a guy. All my friends are girls. So I go and talk to them while I work on it because I am really proud of it--" She stopped herself before he could say some platitude in King James-ian about pride. "--That is, because I am really happy with it and want them to see and learn from all that I have done. So I open it up and say, 'look, this wasn't right so I fixed it. I put this new thing on. bla bla bla."
Norton's patience had well exceeded its limit in the first three words and now he took this opportunity to cut her off and launch into his own self-righteous lecture.
"Now, now now, Melly, what you gotta see is that--"
"Shut up, Norton. I'm sick of you interrupting me. If you had any respect for me at all you would let me finish."
Norton looked dumber and uglier than ever as he indignantly shrugged and put his hands up while he rolled his eyes, as if to say, "fine, I in all my great tolerance will continue to indulge your feminine stupidity, and for this you owe me, and I looking for saying 'I told you so,' later."
"Sometimes I just go to visit my friends, and I just park my car," Melville continued. "Sometimes I look at the car and then leave it alone, and sometimes I actually work on it. And what I find best is when my friends and I both work on our cars together, and we can help each other.
"But I have these crazy friends. When I go to see one of these friends, as soon as I park, she comes running out and starts taking my car apart. I have a bunch of people like this. I want to show her what I've changed, and she says she'll fix it for me as though I haven't just finished telling her that I already fixed it. And the only reason I showed it to her was because I thought she could learn from it. But these girls don't get that I'm trying to help them, they just think I want their help. I can't even visit them without them trying to rip open my car and make it better. So I end up avoiding them."
Norton's misshapen eyes showed some spark of understanding, or something. Melville really wanted to slap him silly, except he already was silly, so she wanted to slap some sense into him.
"And it's sad," Melville concluded, "Because every year I go to these long conferences and automotive training things, specifically so I can help laypeople like them learn. Plus I really do want to talk to them, and I have a lot to say, but they miss out on all of my conversation and all of my auto expertise because they see me coming and go straight to messing with my car, ignoring me entirely."
Norton knew this was his cue to do what gave him the most satisfaction, talking down to Melville and giving her advice. But to everyone's amazement, she stopped him.
"Well, honey, I guess you should--" he started.
"No, Norton, you are that girl." Melville snapped at him. She couldn't think of anything else to say after that. And she didn't want to dramatically walk out.
Then is occurred to her that since she was trying to emulate Nathan, she should do what he did and explain a little.
"Norton, I have already made the mistakes you are making now. I've been here a while and I've gone through some training to help you. Regardless of how badly I communicate, it would be to your advantage to act like what I have been trying to tell you for three years might actually be worth hearing."