The dream started at some point and now Shawn found himself in the kitchen. He was munching on a bowl of Boo Berry cereal, which meant that it was October and that Halloween was here.

The house was empty except for Mr. Clayton who was cleaning the dishes at the sink. There was a clang of metal pots and the soapy clink of glasses that needed to be washing. In the oven, something was cooking. Shawn knew it was a dessert of some kind that Mr. Clayton had prepared especially for him.

Shawn ate his cereal, feeling less tired than usual. He glanced up at Mr. Clayton. "Thanks for doing the dishes." There was dessert for later, but for now, it was really nice of him to take care of the chores. He took a bite of Boo Berry.

The Boo Berry cereal tasted rich with fruity flavor and light with sugar. It crunched with a rough, granular and satisfying texture in Shawn's mouth.



"Oh, it's no problem. You know what they say? Two hands are better than one!" Mr. Clayton said, clearly washing the dishes with both of his hands now, though something was off with the expression.

"So tell me honey, how was school?" Mr. Clayton asked, and Shawn could see he was wearing a yellow apron now, and yellow, rubber gloves that he was using to wash the dishes like some sort of 1950s Mom.

Shawn wasn't sure why Mr. Clayton would be acting all domestic like this, but he was nothing if not willing to play along. "It was all right. Tough to pay attention sometimes, though." The comment about two hands made him wonder something, and he tried to recall what school had been like recently. Had he been taking Mr. Clayton with him, or was he leaving him at home? Maybe that was why he had trouble remembering school?

While he was doing that, though, he also noticed Mr. Clayton's expression and hazarded a guess about what it might mean. "Do you want help with the dishes?"

“Mmm-hmmmmmmmmm...” Mr. Clayton agreed when Shawn spoke of how it was hard to concentrate at school.

It was hard to concentrate. And Shawn felt vague bits of reality filter through the dreamscape. Shawn was tired. He was tired and it was hard to concentrate in Mrs. Moore’s class. Back to School night was right around the corner, which meant that either Mom or Dad would soon thereafter have a parent-teacher conference with Mrs. Moore. What would his teachers say? And for that matter, would Mom or Dad be going. Shawn hadn’t seen or spoken to his Mom in a month since Dad had that argument.


“Would you be a dear and finish washing the rest of these dishes?.” Mr. Clayton said in a demure, house-wife’s tone, lifting one yellow glove out of the soap suds of the sink.

Shawn felt worry creep in as he remembered parent-teacher conferences were coming up. His grades probably weren't very good if he couldn't even remember class half the time. It almost didn't matter if it was Mom or Dad meeting with his teacher, he didn't want to disappoint either of them. But that was for later, when he was out of the dreamscape = it was hard to think about it right now. He swallowed down the last of his cereal and brought his bowl to the sink before picking up a dish towel and starting to dry the dishes Mr. Clayton had already washed. "Did you want to talk to me about something?" His tone was politely curious - he didn't think he'd be having this dream if Mr. Clayton didn't want to tell him something.

“Why yes” Mr. Clayton said. His wooden head slowly looked down into the sink.


The sink swirled with white soap. But the water itself was dark. It was impossible to see from Shawn's vantage point how deep the water was or what lay beneath those white soap suds and dark, almost black water. If Shawn was going to find the last dish, he'd have to stick his entire arm into the sink, at least up to the elbow.


“I need you to reach in there, and see if you can find the very last dish in there” Mr. Clayton said

"Umm, sure." Shawn set the cloth aside and tentatively reached into the opaque sink water. He swirled his hand around, trying to find the missing dish.

The water was murky and the soap suds were luke-warm and somehow spongy. They clung to Shawn's forearms and skin like crawling insects. As Shawn stuck his hand deeper in the sink, the dark water greedily swallow it up to his elbow.

He fished around in the unknown depths for a few seconds searching for something or any sign of the missing dish. Suddenly, something scaly brushed up against the skin of Shawn's hand and in and instant it was gone, the swirling water current still pushing from where it had passed by.



"Did you find it?" Mr. Clayton asked

Shawn felt something strange and not at all dish-like brush up against his hand. But he stayed in-character for the domestic scene Mr. Clayton had built. "I don't feel it anywhere - would it be easier to drain the sink first?"

"No. We'll need to soak the tray in the oven after dinner is done. Maybe jsut reach in there one more time?" Mr. Clayton suggested

Shawn nodded and smiled, and thrust his hand deep into the sink one more time.

Shawn plunged his hand in, searching around for the dish. He felt something: a smooth, porcelain shape. But it was slippery. And it fell out of the grasp of his right hand.

Mr. Clayton, loomed up on the side of Shawn's peripheral vision.




"Maybe try with both hands." Mr. Clayton said, with the eagerness of someone ready to get a house chore over with. Then he disappeared from Shawn's vision and Shawn heard the clackity-clack of his wooden feet against the linoleum kitchen flooring as the Puppet made his way towards the oven.

Shawn adds his other hand, not sure what this whole thing was about but wanting to get it over with and have dessert.