Tesoro

Stanley Bindnek knew there must be a Tesoro somewhere. He’d had the same dream every night for ten days. He told his buddy, Clowdy, about the dream. They sat in the lunch room at the plant and discussed the possibilities of the dream.

“Did the dream give where the Tesoro is? We could just go there and see”, said Clowdy.

“There was just, kinda, hints,” Stanley said.

“What kinda hints?”

“You know, regular kinda hints,” said Stanley

“Dat’s stupid, Stan!” Clowdy snapped, and sent a brief spatter of rice pudding onto the table.

“I know,” Stanley Bindnek said. “I think the hints are in the signs.”

“What signs?”

“There are signs in the dream, like street signs, store signs, advertising signs all over the dream.”

“Well, dummy, all we gotta do is figger out what they mean, go there and see if your dream Tesoro is there.” Clowdy got up from the table and headed back to his machine in the shop. Stanley followed moments later.

During the weekend, Clowdy went to Stanley’s apartment, and the pair of them sat down with paper and pencil and worked on listing all the details of the dream, which was still occurring every night. There was a street sign for a ‘Commercial Boulevard’, and a billboard for ‘Collins Construction and Design’. In the dream, Stanley was seeking the Tesoro, and the hunt revealed the clues. Suddenly, Clowdy jumped out of his chair, knocked over his half-full bottle of beer, and shouted.

“What dummies we are! I know where the Tesoro is!” He was half way out the door, with Stanley hustling to keep up with him.

Ninety minutes later, Stanley and Clowdy pulled aside some undergrowth, and there before them, the one and only Tesoro ever built. It was beautiful, even under its coat of dust.

“What do we do now?” Clowdy asked. Stanley shrugged.

“Let’s go back to my place and watch the game,” he said. “I’ll make popcorn.”

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