Really?

                                                       Really?


      With helmet under arm, I opened the compartment under the seat of my new Chopper. I threw in the carton of Marlboro Reds, and slammed it shut. The gleaming chrome exhaust pipes filled me with bad-ass pride. The long roads through Nevada wouldn’t stand a chance against my black-leather custom-built bike. I straddled it and turned the keys in the ignition.
      I turned on my seat to wave goodbye to my mother. She was in the third floor window, and though I couldn’t see, I knew she was tearing. She did not want me to leave; she wanted me to stay, and be her baby forever. I couldn’t do that, and proved it by throwing the bowl helmet on the grass. I quickly shed my Orange Chopper T-shirt, switched into gear and took off with a roar.
      I didn’t know how to get to Nevada, but my soul was driving—not me. From the tips of my boot clad toes up through my black chaps, bare chest, rose-shades and whipping black braid I felt alive. I had enough Benjamins in my pocket to get food and gas for a cross country ride and back. But I wouldn’t be coming back.
      After a couple hours, I merged onto the 95 and sped up—a lot. I planned on taking the highway south for about fifteen hours, and then heading west until I saw something that might point me towards Vegas. A bird landed on my handle bars…
      “Jaaaaaakeeeeeeeeeyyy” someone shouted from downstairs. “Did you clean your room yet? Its already 9:05, and we were supposed to leave ten minutes ago!”
      “Yes, I’ll be down in a second.”
      I looked at the clock which confirmed that it was 9:05 AM in italicized digital numbers. Thank god for closets. I quickly threw everything that was on the floor into my closet. I would really clean up later. I threw my blanket over my bed, put on my shoes and ran down the two flights of stairs. My mother, who was already in the van, honked the horn. I hopped in the front seat, and she backed out of the driveway.
      Her hair was long, straight, blonde, and done into a half-pony. Her deep eyes were the color of the Pacific Ocean. She was the picture-perfect envy of all boys, but she didn’t know it. Her almond shaped fingernails were painted a delicate pink that accented her skin tone. I felt guilty at having this angel in my car at night. It was 9:05, and I promised her that she would be back home by 10:00.
      I parked the car next to a park. There was but one street light down the block, and nobody was in the park. It was very private. I could hear her exhaling gently as we leaned towards each other. I could feel her lips…
      “Ok. We’re here.”
      My mother parked the car and got out.
      “Well? Aren’t you coming?” she asked.
      I got out of the car, still half dreaming, and followed her. I thought we were going to the mall, but looming over us was the Giant Eagle sign. Giant Eagle was the name of the local grocery store. We went inside and I saw a huge man with a tiny little girlfriend or wife shopping. I didn’t know it then, but he was obviously on steroids. The muscles in his arms seemed impossible. He would have ripped his T-shirt if he flexed. He even had muscles in his cheeks and forehead. But I wasn’t afraid.
      I had trained for this fight for over a month. I had the best sparring partners and trainers. They forced me to analyze every move he made in previous fights. The monster called himself Hammer. We were both getting the usual pep-talk from our trainers who had to stand on the ledge outside the octagon. The referee stepped in and the crowd grew silent.
      “Our challenger, standing in the blue trunks, is none other than Meat Mallet” shouted the announcer into the microphone.
      I hated the way he elongated the names, but it got the crowd to go wild.
“And our defending, three time world champion, undisputed light-heavyweight standing in the red trunks is Jakey the Knife. Will the Knife slice through his opponent again, or will the Meat Mallet pound him into a sandwich steak, and claim the belt?”
      There was some mild cheering, and all grew quiet. The referee got between us and asked us if we were ready. He shouted “Fight,” and backed away. The Meat Mallet grunted like a bull and charged. I quickly sidestepped and pulled one of my favorite moves. I tripped him with a sweeping kick to the shins, and caught his falling face with a left elbow.
      The gigantic man was stunned, and was gushing blood from a cut over his left eyebrow. He struggled to get up but I lunged onto his back and caught him in a stranglehold. Normal people could only withstand five to ten seconds of blood deficiency to the brain, but Meat Mallet was not a normal person. He grabbed my leg, and pulled it from behind his back. I was being arched backwards by his iron arms.
      I quickly let go of his neck and snapped my body forewords. The added force of his pulling was all I needed to clinch the fight. I did a full flip over his head, and my knee met his jaw squarely with a sharp crack. His legs gave out, and he fell flat on his face with another crack.
      The sounds of the arena came back to me with a rush. I could hear the crowd going wild and the referee shouting. The announcer was screaming into his microphone again. My trainer jumped over the fence with a bag of oranges, and told me to put it into the cart…
      “Are you going to be able to pick up the kids after we are done shopping?” My mother asked. “Or are you busy with homework?”
      “No, I can pick them up,” I answered.
      “Good because I have to go to the dermatologist with Max after school.”
      My mother and I were standing next to the seafood counter. A chef was slicing open a long, scaly lava eel. The eel was still quivering, and shooting sparks from its forked tongue. My gleaming Blood Blade severed its evil head with one mighty chop. The villager looked up with a smile, and I nodded. I was getting sweaty under my Mithril armor. The jungle heat boiled up from the foliage, and got trapped under the dense canopy.
      I summoned my familiar, a flaming hawk, to teleport me to the Ice Plateau near Trollweiss Fortress. I planned on slaying some Arctic Bears, but I was greeted by other adventurers who were already looting the Plateau’s precious ice diamonds. The diamonds were normally found in the Arctic Bears’ caverns to the north, but getting the precious stones was dangerous.
      The caverns were riddled with B.B. (black bear) guards and ice dragons. Even if a lucky adventurer was able to fight his way past the B.B. and ice dragons, chances were slim that they would make it out alive. They usually got lost and starved, or, more commonly, they met an early doom at the paws of a bear wielding an ice-sword.
      Some say that the bears were merciless, but I know that they simply have a different set of morals than we do. We simply need to respect their code in order to survive. Unfortunately for me though, humans and bears share the concept of “No Trespassing.”
      With my faithful familiar (not that she has a choice) on my shoulder, I entered the south-east cavern entrance. Almost immediately I was face-to-face with a three headed black dragon. Dragons usually stay deeper in the cavern; that’s where the treasure is. I quickly stopped thinking (it was going to get me killed) and prepared myself for battle. With anti-dragonfire shield in one hand and Blood Blade in the other, I watched all six eyes of the paradoxical beast focus their attention on me…


      “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty”, by James Thurber is a fun-to-read short story that involves a very imaginative man, and his controlling wife. Thurber fluidly transitions between reality and imagination throughout. The main character, Walter, is contrastingly heroic in his daydreams. His simple life and inept nature is completely avoided (or altered) when he is daydreaming. I took these characteristics, and the fact that the story ends with Walter in a daydream, and wove them into my own creative response to this story. I hope you enjoyed it.