nicholasSo, I am running up a ski slope on foot. It’s a beautiful, crisp day and I am moving along at an amazing clip. I notice an entire retinue of cars behind me and there is a young blond girl on a bicycle at the vanguard of traffic. There are semi’s and SUV’s and she is going slightly faster than them. In fact, they seem like they are struggling to keep up. It happens to be on a ski slope on the edge of the mountain, so on one side is a sheer drop-off and on the other a sharp incline. We finally make it to our destination, which just happens to be her apartment. I’m hiding from her, waiting to see where she enters. All of a sudden I storm in behind her with an accomplice and slam the door shut. We scream at her accusingly, “We know you are planning on defecting from Bolivia.” My companion has the shady quality of a G-man, some sort of government operative. He grabs her blouse and tears her shirt off. She is standing there afraid and defiant in slacks and a bra. She pleads with us not to tell anyone as she can’t stand life in Bolivia anymore.
At this point, I notice her apartment is totally unfurnished and actually only consists of a screened-in sun deck with wood paneling. I ask her, very graciously, if there is anything she might be able to offer us as incentive to not expose her plan. She suggests we take her most prized possessions which consist of three plump, English-speaking, white rats in alternating sizes. There is a very small one, like the size of a baby mouse, a medium-sized one, similar to a New York rat, and an enormous one, like the size of a house cat. I put them in an unmarked, white shoebox and take my leave.
Suddenly I am on a sidewalk next to a rather fancy little hipster bistro in somewhere I would presume if NYC. There are attractive, well-dressed people sitting at tables chatting and drinking wine. I go to sit down and place the rats on the ground. One of the people at an adjacent table sees one of the rats sticking his nose out and decides to scream and lift the top off. By this point, I am quite emotionally attached to them and am horrified at the prospect of any of them being injured by the judgmental and unenlightened patrons. Total chaos ensues as everyone attempts to get out of the way and alternately smash the poor little buggers under foot. I, meanwhile, am using my baseball hat (which I’ve taken to wearing recently again, in real life) to attempt to scoop up my darling rats. I manage to get the smallest one in my hat but when I pull him out I realize he is terribly mangled and has bled to death on the pavement. I lose my temper and begin shoving the very same well-dressed people out of the way in attempt to salvage my last two. I find them cowering in a hedge at eye-level while a pair of malevolent, gay, hipsters take it upon themselves to berate them for being rodents. I get in an enormous shouting match with one of the guys, threaten to push his teeth in and gather up my last two mice and storm off.
CRYING FIGHTING HINDU DEITIES MENTORS NEW AGE SHOPPING MALLS