Caries Somnium (Part 1)

For my brothers who have made it this far in the journey of our lives. A rough one it has been. When we made it as far as the ungrateful year of 2039 I was at the wretched age of 16. I guess I have always had it bad. My mother thought about having an abortion. Yep, she was going to have me yanked out of her uterus and chopped up into little fetal cutlets. I don’t know why I guess she thought a daughter was enough to complete the family. Fortunately for my part she decided to have me and even better, keep me instead putting me in an ungodly foster home. Today, abortion is still illegal in 42 of the 50 states and gay marriages, 36 of the 50 states. Many people still choose abortion and therefore are flocking to Mexico. I don’t enjoy the major political controversies. I’d rather focus on what was once my backyard here in Sullivan, Indiana. ‘The more my town changes the more things stay the same.’ My parents say. The youngsters of Sullivan back then were definitely not the youngsters of the previous generation. Angry and violent we were. Street gangs, thugs, crazy rednecks, rapists, and thieves we had become. Angry with the world around us and its ignorance when really we were the ignorant ones. Anger towards adults was the greatest of all teen fashions. Like most of my peers I had a passionate hate for my parents. I can’t count how many times I thought about killing them but it wouldn’t have benefited me any if I did. You’ve heard me cry about enough now. I will now serve you as your humble narrator and tell you my tale.

It was a clear Monday morning. I sought to do what I usually do on a calm morning like this, venture out to the back roads and watch the sun rise. There was nothing better to start the day than a beautiful sun rise in the morning. A glowing blanket of gold stretching across the sky was one of nature’s greatest works of art. It was always worth getting up early for. While watching the sunrise I always hated it when people drove by. I hate the feeling of being watched, because I know what they’re thinking. “What is he doing up there this early?” Idiots, they will never understand how the sun makes me feel. The sun gives me warmth internally as well as externally. Like a plant. Now after the morning prelude it was time to make way for school. I made it back in time for the Hell Chariot or what you may call a school bus. I hated that dreadful bus. If only it were like the old days when my parents were my age but no, the insurance companies got greedy. I had to wait until I was 18. Dammit. The thought of that struck me every time. Nonetheless my parents already taught me how to drive though it still did me no good, except when I stole the car.

The sun beams through the windows on the bus gave me comfort while riding on the bus. Listening to kids screaming and yelling was always distracting. The bus driver didn’t seem to care. It was as if he had a barrier around him while maintaining his focus on the road and dropping these little devils off. I did the same. My barrier was music. I turned on my Micro Pod player and lost myself in the musical plane. It was my last taste of good music before school. I turned on some classic rock, stuff my grand parents probably listened to. I loved every minute of it. Not because of its music sensation but because it was art. Most of the kids at school listen to the new bands like “The Screaming Infants” or “Mass Genocide”. Complete crap I saw them to be. Lack of respect for true art is what they are. Daily these things went through my head. You just wait until I get to school my readers; things get worse in my head.

So I reach school in the commons area just like any other day. I sat with my minions in our usual spot. My warriors they were. We have won many battles on the streets in Sullivan’s dark hours. The fights and struggles against the Robo kids. The Robo was the latest trend us teenagers caught onto. It infected the youth of our nation within a year. The bands who called themselves ‘Robo’ seemed to appeal to the younglings. They began to dress like their idols they see on TV. It was some sort of new neo-punk music trend. It was this generation’s answer to the modern age. To the movies and stories of the past decades the future is now. Now we’re the ones catching up to it with our fashions. Harmless fad you think? Well think again. Robo bands preached teen rebellion and rebel they did. Not like any other youth movement in the past. Riots would break out at least once a week in large cities. Violence and crime among teens exploded nation wide. All the politicians on CNN complained about how our generation was the most violent and angry America has ever seen. And unfortunately this angry generation has made its way to Sullivan, Indiana rebelling against grown-ups and all the good moral values society that was preached to them. They would go out every night and cause all kinds of mischief like breaking and entering, spray-painting churches, throwing bricks through windows, and beating down rival gangs.

It seems that I lost myself rambling on about the Robo kids when I meant to talk of my own little gang. The Robos always went around on a rampage of violence blindlessly vandalizing everything in sight. Not us, we were more eloquent in our violent raids. We would put cherry bombs in lawn gnomes and under pots in people’s yards and run away laughing our ass off. If we saw the enemy we would heat things up and start a brawl. Now you know what we do but now you must know who we are. We are the Poets. A different kind of gang you’d find around here. We all had our own pen names. I went by my real name Virgil then there is Dante named after the Dante Alighieri who wrote his Divine Comedy while in exile, and Homer named after the blind poet behind the Iliad and the Odyssey and Arctinus who wrote Aethiopis and there was the female of the gang, Sappho named after the woman poet from the island of Lesbos. They were my friends but I didn’t see them to be much different from everyone else. Besides, I was the only real poet out of the group who actually studied and read up on them. Despite their flaws and occasional acts of stupidity I embraced them as family. Sappho was like a kid sister to me and Dante was the younger brother I always wanted. Arctinus on the other hand was my age and just as intelligent as I. I always had the suspicion of him turning his back on me or betraying me. I dread the thought of him leaving the gang and taking Sappho and Dante with him. Fortunately things have been steady and balanced between all of us.

I went to first hour which was History class. I have always had a strong love and interest for history. Too bad my classmates didn’t share the love with me. The more immature they acted the more difficult it became to even sit in that class. They would fart out loud in class and talk while the teachers were lecturing. Then there are the ridiculous comments they make in class like ‘this is gay!’ or ‘what is the point of learning all this shit?’ I tended to get lost in my mind and daydream. I imagined myself bringing a gun to school and shooting all the kids I had a passionate hate for. Most of them being those blasted robo kids. The only things that kept me from really bringing a gun to school was two things; metal detectors and good moral values. I imagined myself leading a massive army against the robos in a glorious battle for power. Fighting in steel clad with sword and buckler. Slitting the throats of my enemies and drinking their blood then rejoicing in victory with my loyal soldiers. I got lost in fantasy and left reality and occasionally finding myself in between not sure what was real and what was pretend. This my readers is how I make it through a torturous day at school, abandoning reality. I hated life and everything around me. I wanted to kill and destroy anything that offended me.

The bell of relief rang once again. And off to the next class I go which is a boring ol’ science class. Sometimes it was alright like when we cut open organs and play with a dead piggy’s carcass. Learning about the brain that brews destruction always kept me wide-eyed during the lectures and notes. Nonetheless I still lost myself in my imagination. Occasionally when the teacher wasn’t looking I’d poke my nose into my beloved copy of A Paradise Lost releasing myself into a world of epic poetry. Each line I read rhythm after rhythm, word after word of eloquence. And as I read I wait for the bells of Hell to release me to the next circle of torture.

The bell rang once more and off to hour three I go. The class was Latin and though I enjoyed it the room was another full of ignorant selfish souls. But there was something special in that classroom or should I say someone? Of course as you may know it is natural for a young geezer like me to fancy a girl at school. In the front right-hand corner of the classroom sat a girl who seemed to attract the sunlight. Ophelia was her name. Such a beautiful name fit perfectly for a beautiful person. Named after the unfortunate maiden of Shakespeare’s Hamlet I presume. Ophelia is a wonderful name. I could say it over and over. Ophelia! Ophelia! O my beloved Ophelia! Her face and body were fair. Pure and fresh it was. She was the fairest of the fair and all the fairest could be. Light would shine off the glitter on her perfectly round cheek bones. Her eyes were that of a clear blue ocean and her smile was like opening a window in Heaven. Just gazing upon her made the hour go by. I guess you could say we were on the line of friendship but I did not know much about her. I hadn’t much time for relationships with all my street wars and poetry but I wanted to pair with her. Or maybe I had time for pairing I was too afraid. Nonetheless she was still great to look at and I am sure my reader would agree.

The bell rang again and Ophelia faded down the hallway as I went to art class. Art was indeed a subject I was keen of but didn’t enjoy how it was taught and what I was learning. I usually found myself sleeping or day-dreaming. That hour I saw myself in the Trojan War as portrayed in The Iliad. I imagined I was Achilles slaughtering Trojans to avenge the death of poor Patroclus. Then I would shift and role myself as the man-slaying Hector fighting off the war-loving Achaeans. That made art class go pretty fast. I don’t even recall the lesson.

Next was a period of relief, O my readers. Lunch time was the time to gather myself up and prepare for the rest of the day. We had the early lunch so the food was warm and fresh. There I sat in our own little table with my minions. I was happy to have all my officers in the same lunch block as me. We sat there eating, joking and ranting about the day’s past. ‘What are our plans for tonight, Virgil? Camp around the Square? Smash and run? Decorate some houses? Beat down those robo bastards?’ asked Arctinus.
‘Relax my warriors. Eat your food. Besides it is a Monday. We won’t find much action on a dreadful Monday night.’ I said. My minions continued chomping down on their food. Sappho sat their unusually quiet. She looked troubled but out of respect and from my own experiences I decided not to ask. I continued: ‘Tonight we’ll just beat down a few robo kids and call it a night. It is too early in the week to use much of our energy.’ And they all nodded in agreement. In our lunch there was the most wretched robo scum of them all. His name was Rig mostly known as Big Rig. It was a very simple and stupid name kind of like his brain. Every time I heard that name I wanted to smash something. He was all over there laughing and yelling with his completely idiotic friends bragging about how wasted he has been and all the girls he has deflowered. I found Rig hideous to look at. He was at the height of robo fashion. His hair was all long and spiky like having an artificial look to it. Two chains hung from his nose rings connecting to both his earrings looking similar to a horse’s range. O my readers, you would not believe how much I wanted to rip those chains off of Rig’s face and watching him roll around the ground screaming in pain and agony. His presence always bothered me to hell. But no worries, I’ve already devised a plan to bring him down.

Next class my readers, was Physics. As you’ve heard me say previously about art, it was an interesting class but the way it was taught made it less appealing. Learning about matter and the elements kept me wide-eyed but I dreaded doing equations. This poet and writer was no mathematician my readers. Despite all the horrible equation worksheets and difficult computer assignments it wasn’t an all that bad of a class. My fellow students were all smarties and behaved fairly well. Thankfully I didn’t have to deal with opposing forces coming from a fellow geezer. The class usually goes by pretty fast. All it took was a book. I sat in the back away from the teacher’s eye so I could go on with my business without out the teacher nagging at me. Physics class was just there to annoy me. Before I knew it the bells of Hell rang.

To sixth hour I go now my readers. English was my favorite subject. I loved reading stories from famous authors and studying all the elements and themes of their works. But it just so happens that my class is full of the most worthless scum dumb jock-headed whoring robo sons of bitches. There were the real slutty ones, girls I mean, the preppy ones with their up-to-date pop music. They always had to talk about how they’ve been around half of the male population of Sullivan with their legs wide open. The guys would talk about all the girls they looted and have taken advantage of. They all made me sick and I tell you true, O my readers, I wanted them all dead. They were all rude and obnoxious. As the teacher would be speaking to the class they were always talking out loud laughing and yelling all immature like. It really ruined it for all the students in there that actually wanted to learn which was….only me sadly enough. Mr. Scarfe was my English teacher’s name. He was a very kind man and fairly young. I pitied him everyday for having to teach something he loved to a bunch of mindless animals and getting nothing in return. I don’t think that neither I nor my readers could understand the frustration he deals with each day. Mr. Scarfe and I formed a kind of bond. He knew I enjoyed literature just as he does. He would always have book and poem suggestions for me and was always fond of reading works of my own. It always put a big smile on my face when he complimented my work and said that I was ‘gifted’. A man like Mr. Scarfe shouldn’t be afraid of his students.

We were having a class discussion over Walt Whitman’s poem ‘O Me! O Life!’ and over half the class was asleep or talking leaving me to answer all the questions. As Mr. Scarfe’s voice wandered on I thought about Ophelia and how the future would look if we were paired together. I hoped for a message from above to guide me to her. I had to have her. O Muses, find me inspiration! I must be with my fair Ophelia! As I thought of her I overheard Mr. Scarfe say: ‘As some of you may know Whitman was a nurse in the Civil War…’ and right then my imagination shifted and I was in battle as a Union soldier. This must be the Civil War. I imagined myself in a bayonet charge impaling a Confederate soldier running at me. As the battle raged on, O my readers, my trail of thought was interrupted when a thick skulled jock spoke out in class. ‘I’m sorry Scarfe but no one cares about Walt and his poetry or whatever.’ he said, followed with a farting tongue noise made by a robo kid.
‘I know you don’t care’ Scarfe replied, ‘in fact I know none of you care. But I only ask that some of you at least open your mind. Maybe learn a thing or two from Whitman and other Transcendentalists. You can find happiness around you. You don’t always have to dedicate your lives to drugs and partying every weekend. There is more to life than high school my friends. You guys aren’t going to be teenagers forever so I suggest you all to start growing up a little bit.’ I was quite proud of what he said. I was glad Scarfe decided to stand up for himself and what he enjoyed and believed in. But then a robo kid replied, ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah we don’t care. That’s the point. How is reading gay stories gonna help us after high school? It is all stupid. There isn’t a good reason to learn this crap. It’s 2039 now not the 1600s’ or whatever.’
Scarfe immediately replied, ‘Tell me how drugs and alcohol will help you after high school?’
The robo kids started laughing out loud and blowing their farting tongues aloud. I couldn’t take it any longer. I shouted: ‘Shut up! I’d really like to get on with class if you don’t mind.’ And after saying that all the kids in the classroom started making all these whiny boo-hoo noises at me. ‘Watch out guys we might offend the ‘poet’ over there.’ one said while laughing. A burning fiery anger burnt inside me. My fist tightened but the bell released me and everyone went off. They made stupid faces at me as they went by. I knew they had to pay.

As I was leaving Mr. Scarfe caught me to have a word. ‘Virgil, I must say I’m pretty proud of you for talkin’ back to them like that knowing that you’re probably one of the quietest and most well behaved kids in the class.’
‘Oh, don’t mention it. I know it must be frustrating trying to teach something you love while kids are being rude.’ I replied.
‘It is frustrating but it’s my job and I’ll have to get used to it’ he said, ‘These kids these days are out of control. Parties and violence are the basics of their young miserable lives. When we were young we weren’t even half as bad as you guys.’
‘Heh, I know.’ I said with my head low. Then Mr. Scarfe said: ‘But you Virgil, I can see that you’re on a good path. Stay on that path and I’m sure life will smack you in the face and say hello. I hope the same will happen to those so called robo kids. They’re just experimenting with their identities. One day they’ll look back and realize how dumb they were. It usually happens to everyone and it sure happened to me.’
‘Well, I’ll make sure I stay on that path.’ I said as I took my leave. ‘Oh and Virgil,’ he said, ‘I know gangs seem to be pretty big in Sullivan these days so just try to stay out of trouble.’ I nodded my head ‘ok’ and left for my next class.

I strolled along to my next class thinking about what Scarfe had said. It made me wonder when life was going to smack me in the face. I must have misunderstood what he said because life had been beating the shit out of me for the past few months. I longed for just that one glimmer of hope. That first taste of true happiness and enlightenment. So there I sat, in Psychology class thinking about the future and what it held for me. Maybe this was just a usual stage young geezers like me go through in their journey through life like what Mr. Scarfe said. Keeping this in thought, those Psychology texts were quite useful, O my readers. I would psychoanalyze myself to see how crazy I really was. It turns out I dress and act the way I do to push others away. It didn’t make much sense to me but I’m sure the computers knew more than I did. I fancied psychology because it taught me humans thought and what made them tick. I knew there was a reason for those people around me being so God Damn stupid. That whole hour was me thinking about myself and what I was to do with me. And again the bell rang.

8th hour was etymology a subject with big words and big homework assignments. I really didn’t feel like being in there. I don’t remember the new vocabulary list because I slept through the whole hour. Once again, O my readers I found myself in my fantasy world. I saw myself on an old ship sailing across the world trying to find my home and return to my beloved Ophelia. My shipmates were, as you have probably guessed, Dante, Homer, Arctinus and Sappho. We fought sea monsters, savages and bloodthirsty pirates. I imagined an enemy pirate vessel attacked ours and the captain was Big Rig. As our boats came within range we jumped onto the pirate vessel and mixed violently with the pirates and their soggy sea dog leader. I hacked and I slashed through the hordes of robo pirates until I cut my way through to Big Rig. He taunted at me, ‘The sea isn’t a place for a poet little one! These are my waters leave before I cut you in two!’ I laughed and replied, ‘I only want to return home Rig but if you oppose me prepare to die!’
So then, O my readers we fought on the ship, exchanging bouts. Big Rig had the strength but I had the speed. Bout after bout our swords clashed, steel on steel. People were falling off the ship drowning or becoming shark food. Thick blood began to run down the wood of the deck. Rig knew he was cornered. He attacked me ferociously but I parried and severed his head. My mates cheered as I raised his head for all others to see. I smiled at the thought of this. The bell rang and I returned to reality.

Now my readers, was the last and worst hour of the day. 9th period was Advanced Geometry and the equivalent of Dante the Poet’s 9th and last circle of Hell where Satan himself ate Judas, Brutus and Cassius and shat them back out again. I had it double bad in this class. I hate anything to do with math and I hated most of the people in there. There was a kid named Vex. He was the kid everyone thought was so glamorous and funny the, class clown if you will. They praised him and laughed at all his crappy jokes. The girls fancied him and everyone wanted to be his friend. He was real Tom Cruise like. Though very popular in his classes and loved by three quarters of the school he was a real rude wretched bastard. He was no more than a bully. A bully who was in love with himself and would do anything for attention. I wouldn’t be surprised if he loved the smell of his own shit. He always tended to talk down to me and play little annoying jokes on me. He was one of the people I would definitely kill if it was seen as the right thing to do. In class that day he pulled on my hair and poked me with a pen like he always does. Everyone else always found it funny like any other of Vex’s stupid jokes. I would retaliate and tell him to stop but he would just go ooooooooo and continue. I never bothered telling the teacher because I don’t bring adults into my own affairs. In my mind I planned to get back at funny boy Vex in the dark hours where the youngsters took over the streets. Because at night, O my readers, I was a very different person.

The bell rang for the last time that day and I was free. As we were leaving the classroom Vex kicked me in the back of my leg. I turned to him and said, ‘Do it again and thou shall wake up with no leg.’
‘Are you gonna fight me little queer? Or are you gonna cry about it and write poetry.’ He said. Then he mocked me by saying, ‘Goodbye thou,’ and walked off laughing with pea-sized brained friends. Me being extremely pissed, I cussed to myself and cursed all ignorance infested within the walls of this building. But it was a time to rejoice. I made it through the first day of the week. With all anxiety to get home I boarded the hell wagon with my Micro Pod ready. The kids were more rowdy than in the morning but it didn’t matter. Music was there to save me, my readers. On the bus ride home I would begin with the classic rock musicians. Music my grandparents probably listened to. Led Zeppelin, The Beatles, The Who, The Moody Blues, Black Sabbath, Queen, Pink Floyd, Jethro Tull, Supertramp, Eric Clapton; yes, O my readers the good muzaks. The true masters of the song. I threw myself into the musical plane with my eyes closed as if the music was streaming through me like an unknown energy.

I got off the hell chariot and straight into my house. Of course my mom was in the living room watching TV ready to ask me a million questions. Real uncomfortable and annoying questions they were. The ones you didn’t want to answer and run away from its asker. She would ask real mom questions like, ‘How was school? Get into any fights? Is there a girlfriend? Are your friends into any trouble? How are you grades? Who are the bullies in your class? Are you getting picked on?’
I usually replied with the old, ‘Mother I’ve answered enough questions at school thank you, no need to answer anymore.’
That was always a real eye-roller for her. My dad on the other-hand would always find something to say to bring me down and nuke my self-esteem. One negative word towards me from his mouth could ruin my whole day. Yep, he was real dad-like. Insensitive, harsh, loves the TV, beer and ESPN. My older sister was always online whoring around with other people while watching her lame reality TV shows. In those days, my reader, the big popular reality show was one called Mod. Youth. It was a show about us that is my generation. Basically it was like taking a science show like something from the Discovery Channel and mixing it with a reality show on Fox. They would test young geezers to find out what made them tick when it came to violence. Real nutcases would be filmed and exploited for all America to see and laugh at. I knew the idea came from crazy parents and politicians blaming everything on violent video games and movies. My sister was excited after hearing the news that the Mod dot Youth crew would be traveling through Terre Haute which was north of where I lived. A fine choice I’d say. Terre Haute’s gang activity was ours times five.

My readers must understand that kids didn't have chores around there household like the old days I read up on. Your basic jobs were done by machines and robots. We had a lawn bot and a sweeper bot. Then we had a dishwashing machine that did all dishes for us. Our main system computer told us if there was burglary, fire, bug infestations and other stuff. Having all this so-called high-technology we youngsters got bored. The only thing to do was play our VR video games and roam the streets at night. And that is exactly what I did. That night I played my VRs (Virtual Reality that is) like I always did. I didn’t just play for high scores or competition. It was one of my escapes from reality, O my readers. I would play the real violent ones and most of them being pirated. They were banned from the U.S. because of their explicit scenes of violence. Those damned politicians got a hold of the corrupt government I tell you. But though I played just as much VRs and watched just as much violent movies as the next geezer I always had time to appreciate the arts. I would always read and write poetry on nights I was free. In these after school hours I read any good book I could get my hands on. I must have read over hundred books in past year or maybe I’m slightly over exaggerating. The classics were the first kind of books I would read, anything like playwrights and epic poems. I’ve read The Aeneid probably about six times. And every other book in my poetry collection I’ve read more than once. I also had a large fantasy collection. I would read anything from Lord of the Rings to Harry Potter. Stories of heroes and wizards slaying dragons always kept me excited. Books of poetry and stories of chivalry weren’t the only things that satisfied my evening. Music was the one thing that always made me feel better. The artsy classic rock musicians were there to comfort me when times were bad. I listened to everything I could to pump me up for the night up town. After listening to some rock n’ roll I went back further to some older music. Classical music was good for any moment. Beethoven, Tchaikovsky, Bruckner, Chopin, Bach, Handel, Mozart, Schumann were all gods of music. I could feel myself absorbing the music, feeding my soul. I was ready, O my readers.

This is where my story becomes real epic like. Your narrator begins to change. His life, my life began to turn around for better or for worse or just a mixture of the two. I was getting my battle gear ready for the night. I wore a black cape with tall leather boots and black leather gloves. It was the best apparel for the night, O my reader. My weapon of choice was my beloved bokken. It was made from red oak wood which was the one of the toughest. I wasn’t just a mindless brute with a wooden stick either. I knew how to use it just how the samurai used it in their training. I wish I could’ve used my real samurai sword but the coppers would be all over me. My minions and I usually met somewhere in town or I’d steal my mom’s car and pick them up from their houses. That night they were at the square. Everyone was there, the dirties, the preppies, the rednecks, the jocks, even some smarties but the worst being the robos. Occasionally fights would break out between the rednecks and the robo kids. They were fun to watch and even better when both groups you hate are destroying each other. The rednecks were nicer but just as dumb so I would sympathize for the rednecks but still didn’t care who won. But overall I was still surprised on how many geezers were up town on a Monday night. Oh well the more the merrier I say.

There I met my faithful warriors and we discussed our battle plans. They always seemed annoyed when I preached battle strategy as if I was Sun Tzu. I couldn’t blame them. I knew they wanted to get into the heat of battle as much as I did.
‘So what’s to do then, huh? East Washington Street there is some houses where robo kids live. I say we hit em’ up.’ said Homer while tapping his feet.
‘Great thinking there Homer, my boy’ I said. ‘Tis a great idea what do you say gang?’
‘Right!’ they said. Sappho was still being the quiet one. Something was bothering her and I didn’t want it to affect the team moral.

We cruised down East Washington and Homer was rightio. There was a group of robos with there absurd clothes and colored hair. Dante shouted, ‘There they are! Let’s kill them!’
Dante being the active one shot out of the car first and dove right into the group. The first gang war of the night was underway. I struck one in the gut and immediately disabled him. Sappho scratched them with her claws. Homer beat them to a bloody pulp with his club. Arctinus fought them off with his cane that hid a sword. Dante, well he just kicked the shit out of them until they begged for mercy. Before they ran off I smashed one in the mouth and his teeth shot onto the sidewalk. The remainder fled and as I looked closer I recognized one of them to be Big Rig. This was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. They ran into a house so we decided to lay siege on it. Dante got out his bombs and we blew up their lawn bot. Five of them came out to attack us which was a terrible mistake on their part. As they poured out of the door we smacked them as the came out. Big Rig was leaning up against a wall all helpless. He had his hands up surrendering like a true coward. ‘Not so big now Riggy boy?’ I said. After that Sappho screamed something shocking. ‘He….he raped me!’ she yelled, ‘That bastard let’s killed him!’ We were all angry on what we heard so we gave him a few blows and kicks to the chest. Then I decided to do what I had always wanted to do to Big Rig with those nasty chains on his face coming out of his nose and to his ears. I nodded to Arctinus and we both grabbed each chain as Dante and Homer held him down and Sappho spitting on him. At the count of three we pulled those nasty chains and rings out of his face. He screeched and cried in agony. Rivers of blood poured down his newly mutilated face. I turned and said to my warriors, ‘He who slayeth the dragon receives the trophy.’
‘Which is?’ Dante replied. ‘It’s a princess’ said Homer.
‘No it is the dragon’s treasure.’ I said, ‘A dragon is always guarding his gold if not a princess.’
They knew exactly what I was talking about. Dante and Homer tore Rig to pieces looking for his money while Sappho stood back crying. We got out of there before the coppers even knew what happened.

We were all shaken up a bit so we cooled down by driving by hitting signs and occasionally even people. I used my bokken while Arctinus used his cane sword. We could hear police sirens echoing through the streets. The usual escape was the alley way. We just happened to pull into the wrong one. A well-sized group of robos were in there all gathered up passing around their cigs. They were yelling stuff like, ‘Who the hell are you’ so I drove right through them. I think I dinged a few but no one was hurt. I drove us to my territory I rightfully conquered which was what we called Depot Town. It was the east side of the railroads and a good place to hide out. The crime was usually pretty high but nowadays it was the park that had the high criminal rate, my readers.

Some robos just smashed a window and there was a long line of rednecks pursuing them. We sent in the cavalry, O my readers. As we drove by we swung our weapons at them and watched with laughter as they fell. Everyone stopped to hear a noise in the sky. Once we saw the red and blue lights flashing above everyone scattered. It was a mini-coptor. They were the most convenient surveillances of the city that the police had. I peeled out and chucked my way home after my warriors jumped out of the car. I pulled in the driveway with the car good as new. The night was quiet where I lived and it was very comforting. Silence after excitement was great, O my readers. And as quiet as it was I had to keep it that way by sneaking to my room. It was a success and I dropped onto my bed with a big smile on my face. It was the best night I have had in a long while. There I fell asleep hoping to continue my adventures in my dreams.