Sunday, April 17, 2011

Dreams X: Teenagers Dying In Space For Some Reason

I dreamt I was an under-appreciated intern at a large company, my skills undervalued and my dignity even more so. I was under constant fear of losing my job, though truth be told I didn't like it even in the slightest, I simply needed it to continue paying rent on the apartment I got so that I could move closer to The City in order to seek out better jobs. I was also a mousy little woman, because seeing Catwoman more than zero times is too many times to not associate it with that type of character.

I was given a handcart of boxes and told to go price some used DVDs on a table in what was basically a tag sale in a gymnasium, while the rest of the company geared up for a massive charity event in honor of a little deaf girl with emotional issues, hosted by none other than Bill Murray, who really is such a dick in real life that it followed into my subconscious.

However, I was the only person this little girl would sign with, my company overlooking this fact as they tried to cash in on her ailments. Finally, someone grabbed me and had me talk to her while Bill waited impatiently on stage in front of a couple hundred people.

The little girl told me a story about a goldfish, though obviously a representation of her. She signed to me of a goldfish whose parents were always yelling at each other or her, trying to put her on Ambien as a mood stabilizer. It was heartbreaking.

Until she took the entire building hostage because she was, in fact, a fully aurally-capable evil genius.

I was dispatched to, by any means including armed assault, obtain for her her list of demands. Only upon returning with these expensive baubles did the hostages, including her own wounded parents, discover that the bank manager had been murdered at 1 a.m. the previous night, well before the evil little girl could have done so. Someone had to have stabbed the man to death, flayed his torso, and gotten his face to the little girl to pose under his identity.

No one was more shocked than I to discover that person was me. It was so clever, even I didn't see it coming until it happened. But as soon as the man's face was discovered, it had to be me. There was just no other story-telling path to work it all out. I had the motives, I had the opportunity, indeed the sheer invisibility of character, and with the Evil Little Girl, the means by which to do so and get away with it. That is, until the Inspector figured everything out just a few minutes too early.

That is when we detonated The Bomb. Apparently he had a bomb. I believe I escaped. I assume the Evil Girl did as well. But the one thing I know is that building looked fucking beautiful as it exploded. Truly Michael-Bay-worthy, had there been more fire.

Moral of the story: I am not allowed to take an internship beneath me or people will die.

Bitch, this is my house!

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