The following story was submitted by a fan of The Howard Stern Show who wanted to share their ''Brush with Greatness'' with others.

Submitted by: Fred - 3/1/01

The (imaginary) story...

Recently, I was in New York City and wandering the streets late at night after a night out. I passed by an apartment building and the doorman was standing in the entryway and waved me over. He opened the front door and for some reason I entered the building and made my way to a certain apartment door. I knocked once and a very tired but attractive young lady answered. Behind her, I could see a very tiny apartment, with bed sheets separating the main room into sub-rooms. From behind one a newborn's wail was heard. From behind another, a 4 year-old hollered for his Mommy Melendez. A mother-in-law peered out from behind yet another dirty bed sheet. Panicked, I ran from the building.

Several blocks away, I again was beckoned into an apartment building by a friendly doorman. Approaching another door, I knocked. Very quickly, the door cracked open slightly and a man looked out suspiciously. ''You can't come inside,'' he told me. ''No one comes in here.'' I nodded and as I walked away, I heard the guy tuning his guitar inside.

I walked uptown and yet again was let into an apartment building, this one a bit more impressive than the others. I approached a door, and was about to knock when I noticed the door was ajar. I peeked inside and saw a tall, gawky shaggy-haired guy sitting on the couch, watching his TiVo while he munched on a baked potato. Every so often, some berry-faced jerk came in to the room, holding up shirts and pants for the tall guy to inspect. If the tall guy rejected the clothes, the berry-face would ask pleadingly, ''Can I still hang out here?'' Very disturbed, I tip-toed away and left.

A few flights down, I saw another door, knocked and accidentally pushed open the door. In the foyer of this apartment was a large portrait of Muhammad Ali. A cat mosied over to the door and looked at me. From deep inside the apartment I could hear a woman's high-pitched voice hollering at somebody to ''do it the way I tell you to do it or don't do it all!'' Frightened, I fled the building and ran as fast as I could to the suburbs.

I approached a mansion on a quiet street and before I reached the front door, I looked in the window and saw a horse-toothed jackass scurrying around, frazzled, while his two little kids trashed the place. Frightened again, I ran for it.

Down a highway into a rinky-dink shore town filled with old crummy houses. I passed one dump with a sign that said ''Museum Opening Soon.'' Soon I came upon a house whose mailbox at the street read ''Martling.'' I continued walking and the next house had an identical mailbox. As did the next one and the next one and the next one. Thoroughly confused, I walked up to the sixth house with the Martling mailbox and knocked. While I waited, I smelled smoke. Fire! I thought. The friggin house is on fire! As I wondered what I should do, I sniffed again and realized what the smoke smelled like. Shaking my head, I turned to leave and gazed across the street at the beautiful bay, shimmering in the moonlight.

I squinted as I began to make out the image of a pot-bellied jokester floating on a flimsy raft out on the middle of the water. As I stood there watching, I heard someone whispering ''Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up...'' I couldn't figure out what the hell was going on. Suddenly, the whispers turned louder and suddenly I woke up, sat up in bed and looked to see my wife telling me to ''Wake up'' from my horrible dream!