Monday, June 18, 2012

Flight of the Dictator

So I had one of those dreams last night... you know them, the ones where you remember flying? Ah, the freedom. It felt so real. Perhaps it was the way I could again feel the wind whipping by, or the hum of the lightweight power pack feeding the anti-gravity boosters. Perhaps it was the screaming intruder alert sirens or the bullets bouncing off of my densiplast outfit as I made off with the kilogram of weapons-grade plutonium.

Whatever it was that made it so surreal, it's funny the tricks the mortal mind plays when sleeping.

To be truthful, I'm happy to get sleep at all the last few days. Evidently, "poison oak" is not just a scary-sounding name, and one should not plant it deliberately for defensive purposes.1 Sadly, despite my genius, I triggered one of my own traps2, and the allergic reaction I mentioned in a previous posting has turned into a full-blown rash and skin inflammation of epic proportions over a matter of days.

Now normally, when my corporeal form has been compromised, I simply discard it and transfer my consciousness to a new clone or bio-droid (or if I've become attached to that particular one, repair it and put it back in stock). Unfortunately, I no longer have access to the machinery required to do this3, so I'm forced to stay in this form and heal it the "natural" way, despite its flaws.

As you might have guessed, I something to say about this.

AAAAAAAAAUUUUUUGGGGH this itches like hell! It burns! I will destroy every poison oak, oak, or oak by-product I come across4. You will feel my wrath, oaks of the forest. I shall also offer a bounty on all oak-shaped... things. My maniacal laugh will echo through the rough stone of my new fortress as each burns in my vast fireplace.

Enjoy my calamine-aided rest, foul toxicodendron and quercus (etcetera). I shall return, with torches and chainsaws -- and I shall be 'itching' for revenge!

1. Surprisingly, the land mines and punji spike traps are quite effective in preventing the local religious missionaries and travelling house-paint vendors from reaching my door. For some reason, they are not as wary as the ones I am accustomed to.
2. I don't know what's wrong; I have certainly never had that happen to me before. Ever.
3. Thank you SO much, peasantry of my former island nation. Remind me to send a gift basket made of explodium.
4. From a distance.

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