This time, I was in a kid’s room. Messy, with laundry everywhere. The carpet’s a dull beige and there’s a translucent curtain in front of the open bay window. With the exception of a bed, it’s fairly spacious. I’m fighting a friend of mine, Woo Ping-style, with -bet you didn’t see this coming- pieces of random laundry. One in each of our hands. All I remember is jumping off the bed into mid air over my opponent, flipping and bouncing off a vaulted ceiling and landing behind him, swinging home a finishing blow with a wool sweater to the back of his head. He falls over. He’s not dead, because he’s smiling and I hit him with a fricking wool sweater.
SCENE CHANGE
There is a building on a bluff overlooking a city whose lights stretch for miles. I’m on top of a mansion or something. (It had a swimming pool and deck chairs.) A muted wind blows past. I look down the cliff side. In my hand is a Motorola KRZR K1m.
SCENE CHANGE
In various classes in school, I’m tying my shoes. Every time I do, someone notices the holes in the bottom of my socks. They make fun of me for my “hobo socks”.
Oh wait. That last one was real.