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CRANKYDESTINED THREE: REQUIEM
PROLOGUE: ZZ9 plural Z alpha
Was it a dream?
Or a vision?
Or a drug-induced hallucination?
I came to find out that it was sort of that last one.
I woke up to the sight of an enormous sword, big enough to reach the white sickle of the moon, poised above me to slice me in half. I freaked and, realizing that I was standing up, ran away at top speed.
Somebody was laughing at me.
The world was a blur. Looking back at my starting point, I saw three dark blurs standing around a very tall white blur. The darker blurs were vaguely humanoid and they were the ones who were laughing at me plight. Suddenly, one of the blurs spoke.
"Ha! Freaked out by the size of the thing, weren't ya, Hall?"
Hall? What the..?
I rubbed my eyes hard and looked at the scene again.
I was staring at the very tall and brazenly suggestive spire in the middle of campus, known affectionately as the Dirk Diggler Memorial. My back was to the amphitheater next to the library. UMass, that's where I was.
I pressed my fingertips against my forehead and groaned.
"Damn, Hall," said one of the blurs, "some tour guide you are. I think yer trippin' harder than any of us!"
"Tour guide…," I said, "yes, of course! You guys are tripping and I'm the one who stayed sober to guide you all around campus."
"Yeah," said one of the blurs I now recognized as one of my dorm-mates, "but you kinda zonked out."
"Hey, look!" said another blurry dorm-mate, "pretty clouds!"
The Trippers whom I'd come to refer to as "the Fun Girl Three" raced down the dewy hillock and started dancing around in the starlight. I sat down on the damp ground to recollect myself.
It had all been a sort of empathy-trip. I had heard that hallucinations can sometimes be contagious, but I'd never imagined the result would be so dramatic.
[Damn,] I thought to myself, [talking animals, mecha- gremlins, and guys with too many heads. Are you sure you didn't partake in those nutcases' stash?] And I had to answer myself no.
"Whatever," I said aloud quietly, "it's over. Crankyland was kick-ass but it wasn't real. Now I have to make sure the Fun Girls don't wander off into the woods."
[And then,] I said to myself, [you'd have to save them from Libertarian Dragon/Vampires. Heh heh heh.]
I chuckled aloud and headed down to the trippers' elven dancing field. They greeted me with the expectant eyes of four-year olds.
"Okay, ladies," I announced to my friends, who had fallen into the very depths of Wackyland, "let's visit the Outdoor Sculpture Exhibit."
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