Sno’ Witty™ had a dream last night. Not a prophetic one. Not a “the ancestors spoke to me” one. Not even a “Criminal Minds taught me how to profile my own subconscious” one.
No. It was the same dream she had when she was eight.
A black horse. Tall. Glossy. Majestic. Suspiciously identical to Black Beauty, which feels like copyright infringement, but childhood imagination does not recognize federal jurisdiction.
Now Sno’ is 35.5 years old, which is the age when:
- your knees begin filing complaints,
- your back renegotiates its contract,
- your childhood dreams start sending follow-up emails,
- and Congress decides to send the IRS after you for absolutely no reason.
Apparently the government woke up one morning and said, “You know who we should audit? Sno’. She seems like she’s having too much fun.”
“Hi, we heard you dreamed about a horse. That’s taxable.”
🐎 THE HORSE
The horse in the dream was not symbolic. It was not metaphorical. It was not a message from the universe.
It was simply the horse Sno’ wanted at eight and still wants now, because adulthood is just childhood with bills and better snacks.
“I want that horse. I deserve that horse. I survived Harrington Beach with Hoolia calling me while standing directly in front of me. I have earned this horse.”
And honestly? She has.
🧾 THE IRS
Congress, for reasons unknown, sent the IRS after Sno’ like she is a Fortune 500 company laundering money through dog treats.
The fictional agent arrives in Rubicon, sees Lulu — the hallway horse of life — galloping through the house like she pays rent, and immediately regrets every professional choice that led him here.
He flips through his paperwork.
“It says here you owe… Actually, I don’t know what this says. Why is there a doodle of a squirrel with a knife?”
Sno’ nods.
“That’s the siccarious kit. He lives in the backyard. He’s plotting.”
The agent closes the folder.
“We’re leaving.”
🌙 THE DREAM
The dream was not profound. It was not mystical. It was not a sign.
It was a reminder.
A reminder that Sno’ Witty™ has:
- survived questionable planes flying overhead like they are trying to parallel park in the sky,
- survived Bane’s Houdini escape on the hike,
- survived Hoolia’s beach-ruining phone call,
- survived the daily 55% drizzle, adulthood, Congress and the IRS,
- and survived the moon, which she punched and which, frankly, had it coming.
And through all of that?
She still wants the horse.
🎤 MIC DROP
Sno’ stands outside in Rubicon, Lulu trotting beside her, the siccarious kit watching from the shadows, Travis somewhere inside being emotionally stable, and the sky preparing its daily drizzle.
She looks directly into the invisible camera:
“I’m 35.5. I want the horse. Congress can fight me. The IRS can file paperwork. The moon can recover. Sno’ Witty™ is back. And she’s buying the damn horse.”
STAY TUNED; PROBABLY NEVER COMING NEXT:
- Sno’ Goes to War With the IRS
- The Horse Acquisition Saga
- The Siccarious Kit Criminal Minds Profile
Sno’ Witty™ is back. Rubicon has not been notified.
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