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A Basic Guide To Dream Interpretation

Dreaming is a universal human experience, and many similar themes arise in people’s dreams the world over. The Onion provides some context for interpreting these common dreams:

Bill O’Reilly Tearfully Packs Up Framed Up-Skirt Photos From Desk

NEW YORK—Smiling wistfully as he gazed at the cherished mementos that had sat on his desk for much of the past 20 years, former Fox News commentator Bill O’Reilly reportedly grew teary-eyed Thursday as he packed up the framed up-skirt photos from his work space following his termination by the cable channel.

Family Sadly Marks First 4/20 Without Grandmother

ALBANY, NY—Reminiscing about the departed matriarch while partaking in the annual festivities, members of the Osterman family sadly marked their first 4/20 since the passing of their grandmother, sources reported Thursday.

Report: Store Out Of Good Kind

UTICA, NY—Unable to locate them on their usual shelf, local man George Rambart, 41, reported Thursday that the store was out of the good kind.

Dwight Howard Clearly Doesn’t Know Team’s Name

WASHINGTON—Noting his confused expression and uncertainty while shouting incorrect nicknames throughout the playoff game, sources confirmed Wednesday night that Atlanta Hawks center Dwight Howard clearly does not know his own team’s name.

Donald Trump Jr. Takes Son On Hunting Trip In National Zoo

WASHINGTON—In what he referred to as an important rite of passage for his 8-year-old son, Donald John III, Donald Trump Jr. took his eldest boy to the Smithsonian National Zoological Park for his first-ever hunting trip, sources said Wednesday.
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How Did I End Up On The Cover Of This Romance Novel?

Last week at the supermarket, while shopping for my weekly supply of three dozen eggs and 12 pounds of mutton, I spotted a rack near the checkout lane containing several romance paperbacks. Normally, such trash wouldn't get a second glance from my coal-black eyes, but the sight of one book practically made my chiseled jaw drop. There, on the cover of Dark Passions was yours truly, Duncan Larksthrush, in the flesh.

At first I thought it must have been a coincidence. There must be thousands of men with huge, glistening pectorals and shoulder-length golden hair whose steadfast gaze betrays immeasurable fathoms of passion.

But there can be no doubt it was me. The cover artist must have followed me during a recent visit to my ancestral estate on the tempest-swept promontories of Northern Scotland. Judging from the picture, the sketch was based on the occasion in which I chanced upon Arden, the crofter's nubile young daughter, kneeling upon a rocky outcropping and picking some wildflowers from the weathered stone. Even though I had only just finished tilling seven acres of firm earth, I knew at once my broad, thewy arms could take her. "You rogue! I shall not allow this offense against my honor!" she cried out, her titian hair uncoiling in the Caledonian wind. As I dipped her low, her pounding heart betrayed her pleas for her chastity, and my turgid manhood would be denied no longer.

That bastard must have been hiding with a sketchbook in the bushes.

You can understand my smoldering rage. I certainly don't recall agreeing to have my well-hewn physique splashed across every newsstand and bookrack in town. Admittedly, my schedule has been full lately—I purchased a new leather arm cuff, reclined on an empty beach in my tattered sheepskin boots and full riding gear, waxed and re-oiled my chest—however, posing for the cover painting of Dark Passions definitely was not on my list. But apparently, a rugged, flat-stomached man's privacy means little to author Stephanie Blackmoore when it comes to the pursuit of profit.

I just hope no one I know sees it. The other blacksmiths would never let me live this down.

Nor can I imagine what would possess someone to depict such a scene. I was certainly far from respectably kempt: Having just finished reaping oats with my scythe, my white, blousy tunic was dirty and tattered. It was practically torn from my shoulders, and the striated muscles of my bronzed torso were exposed for anyone to see. And my errant tresses had slipped out of their leathern knot and clove to my cheek with the dewy sweat of a full day's labor. Blazes! Had I known I would be fronting a bestseller, I would have taken a shower and put on my nice red shirt, and maybe a tie.

I never asked for this. The life I chose to lead is one of solitude, whether I'm building log cabins in the foggy Ozarks, or tending to my vineyards in the Tuscan countryside. But those blissful days of rugged independence seem to be over. Will I ever again be able to collapse wounded into the arms of a busty field nurse during my town's annual Civil War reenactment without becoming the poster boy for the next vulgar potboiler?

Can't a brawny, brooding man ride his stallion slowly through the fresh-smelling air of a misty forest at dawn and think ruefully back to his tender childhood that seems to him now to exist in another world entirely—without having to constantly look over his perfectly sculpted shoulders?

No, this is no way for a free and unfettered man with a small fortune inherited from a distant noble relative to live. Therefore, I have decided to weigh anchor and set sail with my crew of strapping young seamen aboard my sloop, The Moonlight Arrow, toward destinations exotic and unknown. Once at sea, as the suzerain's daughter I have shanghaied from our last port-of-call clings hungrily to my abdomen, her honeyed breath playing about my breast, I will gaze stoically at the horizon from the prow of my ship, where none of those frauds at Harlequin/Silhouette would ever care to find me.

More from this section

Bill O’Reilly Tearfully Packs Up Framed Up-Skirt Photos From Desk

NEW YORK—Smiling wistfully as he gazed at the cherished mementos that had sat on his desk for much of the past 20 years, former Fox News commentator Bill O’Reilly reportedly grew teary-eyed Thursday as he packed up the framed up-skirt photos from his work space following his termination by the cable channel.

Family Sadly Marks First 4/20 Without Grandmother

ALBANY, NY—Reminiscing about the departed matriarch while partaking in the annual festivities, members of the Osterman family sadly marked their first 4/20 since the passing of their grandmother, sources reported Thursday.

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