I just woke up from a dream. It must have taken place in Venice, because there were all of these canals running through this city. And the Three Musketeers and Michelangelo and I had cannons set up all through the city, and we were waiting in ambush for the pirate ships that were wending their way through Venice, on their way to do something evil. They were French pirates, I’m quite sure, for their clothes were resplendent with ruffles and flamboyance.
Our cannon attacks were quite successful, and we dispatched all but the last ship with great aplomb. However, the last ship managed to slip just past the range where our cannons could shoot, with some men still aboard, and it was crucial that we finished them off.
All at once, Michelangelo jumped on board the ship. The Three Musketeers called him Caravaggio, and I realized that he was not the Michelangelo who sculpted David and painted the Sistine Chapel, but instead the artist Caravaggio, whose first name also happens to be Michelangelo (I have no idea how this coincidence occurred: Perhaps asleep, I have a better grasp of art history than I do awake.) Caravaggio jumped to the deck and beheaded the last eight pirates, six of whom were either joined by some sort of birth defect, or just standing very close to each other. Whatever the case, these six all went with one swing.
At the last, as Caravaggio jumped back to the Venetian shore, and the unmanned French pirate ships sailed into the Mediterranean sea, the Hunchback of Notre Dame came out of the cargo hold where he had been hiding and swore his undying revenge.
I wonder what will happen tomorrow night.