Friday, July 22, 2005

of bees and beakers

Last night I found myself trapped in a series of abandoned underground laboratories. Someone was chasing me and trying to kill me. I found my way to the extreme edge of the laboratory complex where it met up with a disused subway station. All of the doors were locked and gated. I could see small wisps of sunlight streaming down from high above.

As I did my best to stay quiet and hide, I heard a noise. At first, it was just a faint rumble. Then it became a very pronounced buzzing sound. Turns out that whomever was chasing me knew exactly where I was and had sent a swarm of killer bees through the ventilation system. I was attacked by a cloud of angry stingers. My pathetic attempts to swat them away only managed to make them angrier. Without much in the way of protection, I was stung all over my arms and my face.

Fear took over at that point and I ran back through the only unlocked door, the one leading back into the complex. Down hallways, through empty and abandoned laboratories, past creepy equipment and the green shards of broken beakers - all the while trying desperately to stop the bees from stinging me.

I managed to lose them eventually, but got completely lost myself in the process. Without any idea of where I was, I decided to simply sit down in a corner and hide. I picked the wrong corner.

As I sat down, my foot kicked a nearby door. Within seconds, the door opened. There was the man who had been chasing me. He wore a white lab coat, rubber gloves, and had blood stains (some old, some fresh) all over him. Within the room were bizarre skinless animals and humans hung from hooks so as to look like creepy mobiles. Their muscles were all visible and had been splayed out in what looked like an attempt to study them academically. They filled the room - on the operating table, hung from the ceiling, hung from the walls - and in the middle of it all, was the scientist and the two huge knives he held in his gloved hands.

He lunged at me, smiling all the while, as he tried to kill me or skin me or both. After evading him for a while, I soon found myself trapped in the corner of his creepatorium. The details are fuzzy, but I believe I threw something onto his face, a chemical from a nearby beaker. Instantly, his face caught on fire. As he stood there writhing in pain, his face melting, I reached across and flicked on the switch to a huge industrial fan that was right next to me (go figure). Distracted by his flaming face as he was, he didn't know to get out of the way of the fan. I braced myself; he didn't. And so in seconds, after the fan spun up to full speed, the flaming freak was sucked into the fan where he quickly became little more than a spray of blood and chunks of freak meat.

The end.

2 Comments:

Blogger One More Naughty Girl said...

Wow.

I am a dreamer as well, and have at times not wanted to dream at all...I do have 2 great solutions if you are interested.

1. Stop sleeping. This can be acomplished with many drugs legal or illegal...side effects suck though because sooner or later you are going to start seeing things which is just as bad as dreaming.

2. Drink really heavy every night until you pass out. If you do have a dream you won't remember it. Side effects also suck.

Kisses...

12:48 PM  
Blogger Bug said...

Hm. I dunno ... my entire straight edge lifestyle might not take too kindly to those tips.

It's been 15 years with these things now. I've come to just accept them as part of who I am.

I'll probably be documenting all of the old ones I can remember as well as any new ones as they come along, just so that I have a record of them.

2:47 PM  

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