Tuesday, June 09, 2009

Um, what?

So last night I walked into my house around 12:30 am. I locked the door, turned off the porch light and went to pee. Then the phone rang. I ran to answer it before it woke up my dad.
"Hello?"
beep
"Hello?"
beeeeep
I hung up and *69'd. It dialed and then there was no noise. Not even that woman telling me that the number was unknown. I went into my room and locked the door.

Cut to Stef entering dreamland:
I am a Nazi concentration camp survivor and I have this ID number that a group of terrorists is determined to get. There are a bunch of us girls, we're all dressed the same, and it's hard to tell who is who. Well, the terrorists chose this day to break into my house and set up sniper rifles and such. My friends are trying to save me, and they keep dying in an attempt to make the terrorists think that they have shot me. (still with me?) So, they kill Rachel (what?) and think she was me, and they leave happily. I dye my hair black and move on with life like a happy little clam.

A couple days later, Molly and I are at the mall and a little kid tries to steal my bike, so I beat him with a stick until he lets go and then I carry the bikes into the mall. I turn around to see him climbing on a garbage truck and then the driver turns it on. The little kid's head gets cut off and then compacted (think Wall-E style). I go on with my day in the mall. UNTIL (dun dun dun) there are laser red dot things all over and I realized the terrorists have discovered that it wasn't really me that they killed.

Molly and the rest of the group from before (my fellow camp survivors) are all dressed in purple, running around. And I get sniped in the neck. And for some reason, my body (like Dead Like Me) keeps walking around rubbing the bullet entrance hole and thinking about how my friend died to save me, even though I died anyway.

The end.

----------------
Now playing: Black Box Recorder - Child Psychology
via FoxyTunes

No comments: