3.17.2005
Effective uses for towels
A wierd dream, but Douglas Adams would be so proud!
******
Last night, Bryn snatched me from the familiar arms of the Milky Way and flew me off to her home planet located some where past the constellation of Aquarius. It was a charming little world, not unlike fair Terra, where it's quirky and unconventional inhabitants lived at the bottom of a deep canyon and danced under their sky in a manner reminiscent of the wild citizens of Zion dwelling deep beneath the Matrix.
Alas, Bryn's bizarre behavior made perfect sense.
The people here lived very happy and content lives, but I was always conscious of a feeling of uneasiness and urgency. Many times throughout the day, I observed those around me pause from their business to stare past the high reaches of their canyon, scrutinizing the sky with growing concern. Soon after, I learned that Bryn's people were not the only advanced race on the small planet.
One day, on a stroll with Bryn through the marketplace, I watched a fleet of crop dusters descend into the canyon.
"I didn't know your people had an airforce." I said to my friend and she stared back as me as though I was something out of a zoo.
"Not quite." She replied as she rushed me into a nearby home. There she ordered me to swallow a strange green tablet and she wrapped my face and head with a sopping wet towel. Others in the dwelling did likewise and I stared out the window to watch the pilots circle overhead as green tinted mist billowed from the tails of their aircrafts. The invaders meant to kill off this small human population with a biological agent, but Bryn's people, no strangers to such attacks, were thoroughly prepared.
Eventually, all but one of the fleet departed and this lone flyer dove his crop-duster downwards and at such an angle, I knew his engine would stall if he tried to pull upwards.
"There is only one now." Came the muffled voice of a towel shrouded woman behind me. "Kamikaze..."
The pilot crashed into one of the community gardens and the blast shot out strange spores that coated the vegetation around it. At that point, everyone behind me began to hurry over each other and in the chaos I caught words like "poison" and "toxic" and "burn."
Bryn and I watched a salvage party race to torch the foilage infected by the Kamikaze's deadly spores and others rush to protect the crops untouched by the attack. Bryn removed the towel from her face and head and smiled at me sadly. "Even on this boondock planet, terrorism finds us."
She giggled and as I was looking over to see what was so damn funny, I felt the harsh snap of her towel on my thigh. Bryn grinned as I yelped. "But..." She went on mischeviously. "In the aftermath, if you don't snap your friend with a wet towel, the terrorist have won!"
******
Honestly, my dream didn't quite end that way. In fact, it is the involuntary contribution of my friend, Kris (you rock, dude). I can't remember how my dream finished, but even though the last paragraph is fabricated, something tells me that in such a situation, Bryn might have done exactly that!
DATA OUTPUT: Jessi @ 3:07 PM
DATA INPUT = 1
