2003-12-29 - 12:03 PM

Last night, a dream. I was being held captive for some bizarre scientific purpose that was never properly identified, with waves of supernatural guardian outside the parking lot (My old high school B lot) to keep us in, and being drugged with "vitamins" to keep us passive.

I was in a room, with slices of cheesecake. It occurred to me that it was odd they should feed us cheesecake with mind-dulling propoganda flashing across the wall. My two fellow inmates and I exchanged glances. With all the sedated apathy I could muster, I turned to my captor and asked... "Does this have... vitamins?" Beautiful but evil, she smiled and nodded. I chewed bites and coughed, covering my mouth out of politeness, slipping unswallowed chunks into my hands, storing it in my pockets. Suspicious, they began watching me more closely. I threw up on my cheesecake, and told them it was yummy, could they bring me a fresh peice? Bought some time. The gorgeous but terrifyingly evil woman put sprinkles on my cheesecake, puke and all, and handed it back to me. I protested, she began gettin' it on with my neighbor. While she was distracted, I took the gob of vitamin death and stuffed it in my pocket, then proceeded to watch. I would not suffer the tools of the man, but I was fascinated to see them in action.

I tried to escape, but it was tricky. To get past the sidewalk you had to avoid the throng of zombified social rejects, kind of like Super Mario Thumpers in that they saw you getting close and zoomed at you from the side, knocking you down. But after them, in the parking lot, those possessed evils, the poison-snowball throwing old ladies. If you got past them, which was impossible (for there were many old ladies, and their snowballs were strong), you would eventually be hunted down by the head honcho with his tranq gun and dune buggy.

There were weapons, but we couldn't get to them. No access. In a flurry of inspiration I went to the paper room, and took apart the large paper cutter. Weilding the blade (whose dull side was, in fact, an umbrella) by a small wooden handle, I charged into the parking lot. The rejects came at me, I swung at their necks. Blood spurted, bodies fell. Ghostly spirits stood in their place, thanking me for their freedom. The second wave. Evil old ladies! Snowballs! I charged, I swung. They fell like stoned acrobats, limp bodies collapsing to the cold cement of the B-Lot. They, too, stood before me in spirit form, proud and thankful. Vast legions of humanity, liberated from this twisted overlord's dark purpose which nobody completely understood. I raised my paper-cutter blade in triumph. No more would we be forced to volmit on cheesecake for our own well being. No longer would the rejected and the elderly haunt parking lots with fists and snowballs (in southern california?) in the name of the evil that controlled their souls. I had damned The Man. The king was dead.

-Alex

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