I was biking to work, and it started off sunny and easy. Abruptly, the weather changed to a deep, dark winter's night with thick snow all over the ground, which appeared to be vast expanses of fields. I could feel myself slow down, especially when I was forced off the road by cars and onto the grass. Then I could feel myself work really hard to slog through, and I even thought to myself what a great workout it was.

As I rounded the bend that led into town, I could see the border was marked off by a large row of trees perpendicular to the road, so that the only gap was for the road. Once I crossed over, the town itself was snow-free, but still dark. I couldn't decide in my head whether I was biking to work in Boston or in Madison, so I lost my way. I found myself in Roxbury, which is a more run-down town just outside of Boston. As I tried to get back on the main road, I found myself going full-speed through an empty children's playground, directly at the brick wall of the school. Instead of stopping and turning fully, I let myself bounce off the wall at an angle and correct myself off the bounce. It felt pretty cool. But then I was stuck at a dead end railing. Fortunately, there was a gap under the railing, and I slid my bike through, then myself, and resumed.

When I got back on the big road, it was sunny again. I was once more run off the road by cars and had to stick to the lefthand sidewalk. A truck suddenly smashed into the wall right in front of me, putting me hard on the brakes. I looked to see if the driver was okay. He appeared to be drunk, but in full command of the truck (which was painted a sickly green and blue, and appeared to be assembled in irregular chunks). He backed up and smashed again into the wall, a few feet closer to me. I quickly backed away and found that the traffic had died down. Instead, a bike race came through, straight down the middle. In the lead were several race organizers, all but one on foot. The one on the bike had a traffic cone which he used to mark off the actual race leader. I couldn't figure out why the organizers were faster than the racers, but I guess they could have been waiting ahead and only just started running (and the racers looked tired by this point). In any case, I followed them slowly and drowsily before waking up.

posted by Larry at 9:13 AM

Fragments

"The plan for the western front is closed, sir," the clown said violently, his claws gripping my face and shoving me toward the door. "I have taken 18-pound punches, I have taken on anyone who thought they were strong. Do not question my ability to deliver, pound for pound, the best punches I have to offer. You eat when I say you eat: the day after next, two weeks, whenever."

"You look 99% like my cousin, even your mannerisms. Hey Ben, you've met my cousin Justin before, right?"
"No."

"Punch! One more for the revolution!" Brian stood up, thrusting his fist in the air.
"Oh," she said, "It's one of those."

Mary rushed out theatrically. It didn't seem to have anything to do with the senator's rally across the street.

A waitress played tug-of-war with the burnt doll's body, its head buried in a waiter's anus. I wondered who would get paid to do such things.

"Just one." He showed me to my booth, stuffing patrons unwillingly along the 2-seaters by the side.

A twinkling thought meandered through my head.

Giant burgers with a toasted bun. Just my style.

"I want my burger."
"Your wants are what destroy you," said the clown.

posted by Larry at 8:53 PM