February 3rd, 2011
I was twenty-seven again, but for some reason, I needed to go to high school. It was a beautiful spring morning at my parents’ house, and strangely, the shower was covered in feces. No way was I going to use that, so I just put on some clothes and went to school.
Class after boring class I sat through, not really able to follow along because I was totally unprepared for all of them. Then, during a test, it hit me. I’m twenty-seven. I’ve already graduated. What am I doing in school?
I left class and hopped in my Camaro to head home. And though it was a sunny spring afternoon when I left the school, it suddenly became night. And then even more suddenly, winter. Snow lined the sides of the roads at least a foot deep. And although the streets were covered in slush and ice, I swerved all over the place struggling to maintain control. I remained calm, bored almost. The road I was on grew steep, and the vehicle picked up speed. The car lurched briefly into the air as I hit some railroad tracks on the side of the hill. Reaching the bottom, I swerved the car right around the corner into the intersecting street. I would soon be home. I just had to cross the bridge.
As I reached the bridge, I was shocked at what I saw. The frame and supports were there, but the road itself was gone. Instead, laying inside of the structure was a couple of planks connecting the way on one side of the river to the other. No vehicle could cross that. Fortunately, my Camaro had turned into a shopping cart filled with old newspapers. I would easily be able to push that across.
Determined to get home, I gripped the cart’s handle and ran across with all of my might.
I was in my parent’s home, tired and wanting a shower. It was now strangely built so that no one could ever get in. No matter. It was still covered in feces. I looked up at the showerhead. It was pointed out of the shower in my direction. I sighed and took a shower in the middle of the bathroom. It felt good. Putting on a bathrobe and drying myself off with a towel, I headed to the living room and looked out the window.
It was spring again. An extended deck ran along the front of the house, and bunnies frolicked in the yard.
“Look, bunnies,” I said.
My father and brother came to look. Though my brother was excited, my father did not share in his joy.
“Bunnies,” he simply said.
He walked outside into the midst of the bunnies, and though some fled, most stayed. He quickly snatched up two with on and then used the other to give them both a hard twist before throwing them at the window. They hit with a thump and landed on the deck. Their lifeless bodies lie twisted together, fur missing from the middle, scarred and bloody. My brother and I were horrified. More bunnies hit the window.