I have this recurring nightmare that Sir Anthony Hopkins is coming over for dinner. In the dream, I tell my wife about our guest and she freaks. 'You've invited Hannibal over? We're out of fava beans and the house is a mess. I hate when you do this.' she says. 'I better get ready,' I tell her. Then I grab my Glock from out of the bedroom. She follows me, 'You stupid fool! Guns can't hurt him!' she exclaims as she picks up a pair of shoes from the floor. 'How about I pour some whisky on him and then light it?' I reply as I search for the spare magazine and bullets. 'Fire won't stop him. This is Hannibal! Nothing we have will affect him!' she insists. OK, now I'm getting scared. He'll be here in just a few minutes and I don't know what to do. I don't even know if I really invited him. For a brief moment, I consider that our neighbor Buzz Aldrin could come over and help us. Hell, he's been on the moon, that's got to count for something. But he's out of town this week. Figures. Now I'm in panic mode. Wait. There's Holly! Holly's our pet velociraptor. She's a real bitch and I think she's in heat which makes her even more dangerous. We've had her for a couple of years and we're pretty attached so my guess is that she'll be more than willing to protect us from our dinner guest. Then it hits me... Sir Anthony Hopkins versus a pissed off velociraptor. Who would win? This is gonna be one hell of a fight. I tell my wife to get the video camera because this shit is about to go viral. Beep! Beep! Beep! The fucking alarm goes off and I wake up. This happens every time. Guess I'll never know. email: [email protected] web: www.michaeloster.com