Someone broke in while I was at my parents's house. I was up in the kitchen washing dishes when this large, bald guy came up the stairs. "What are you doing here?" "What are YOU doing here." "Fuck you." "No, fuck YOU" Seconds later he was standing in the middle of the kitchen and ready to fight. He wanted our battle to be ritualistic rather than a street brawl. My punches were ineffective and he would bull rush me into the wall or knock me around on the sharp corners of appliances.

Luckily I tripped him up and had him stuffed into one of the lower drawers. For a long time I lay on my back on the foor with my shoulders braced against the wall and my legs keeping the drawer shut while he struggled to escape. Logic rattled through my mind. He's bald. He's big. Therefore he's Tenctonese. Tenctonese are vulnerable to salt water. Everybody remembers Alien Nation. When his thumping had quieted down I got up and thoroughly rubbed my hands with salt from this huge glass container full of salt kept on the counter. The Tenctonese was laying in a fetal position when I rubbed my salty hands on his arms and head. This woke him up and the screaming began when I poured water into the drawer.

I was victorious over him but minutes later a skanky, pierced chick with technicolor hair leapt out like a martial artist. She was a cuisinart of easily avoided kicks and punches. When her back was turned I nearly decapitated her with a bread knife. Her body thumped to the floor. No blood. The girl's eyes flicked back and forth in confusion while opening her mouth like a goldfish.

That's when I stirred, realized it was Sunday morning proper, and went back to sleep.

Now I was at work but it wasn't work. Everyone that I know and loathe was there but the office was someplace different. Everyone sat at these old fashioned desks with tiny, useful drawers and pigeonholes. The department manager was talking to me but I was too busy to pay any mind. Minutes later I realized she was telling me about some state mandated form regarding my sanity. This guy came in and shoved a few forms and a felt tip marker at me. "I can't write with a felt tip marker. I'm not a child." Sadly I couldn't find a working pen anywhere in the office for a long time. When I started filling out the form, the form started tearing and became useless.

I felt embarassed because there was a reason behind using a felt tip marker.

Instead the general manager came down and acknowledged that I was a busy person. There was an alternative since I was having so much trouble with the original document. As she led me to an empty amphitheater she gave me instructions. "You need to wear a damp towel. You're going to sit between me and someone else. Some of the forms will already be filled out but this is a formality." And so forth.

According to the new forms, I had to acknowledge I was of Mexican descent. This was really insulting. The entire time I never even thought to request a new copy of the original form along with a felt tip pen. What was I thinking? Ken Salazar, senator of Colorado was on one side while the general manager sat on the other side. Playing on the movie screen was a CGI cartoon about the adventures of two stray dogs and how the sun was the light of two celestial dogs. Mr. Salzar jabbed me with a needle and pumped the crotch of my right thumb and index finger with some fluid. I feigned pain but everyone else thought I was being serious. The senator laughed at me, making mocking pain noises. That's when the general manager leaned over to me, "Now in a few years you're going to have anal sex."

What?

With a woman? With a man? Pitcher? Catcher? A foreign object? Hundreds of questions kept running through my mind while my mouth was doing its best to weasel out of the proposition. I never got any answers so I woke up.