|my life as an imperial spy as seen through the filter of my wakefulness
||[Apr. 9th, 2009|11:36 pm]
8 or so bees in my bonnet
|||||amon tobin - supermodified||]|
SOME KIND OF SECRET AGENT!
had to flush out something
over the road.
down below my balcony vantage point
next to the river
i receive my insructions
i am dropped in at night. a very snowy, crispy night
made my way slowly through the broken cabin
dressed in black
like some evil milk tray man
as i crushed the occaisional patch of snow
i edge forward aiming my pretend gun.
(it weighs nothing)
although it does have laser targeting
which is twinkling with the steam from my breath.
i arrive at the main greenhouse
where the deadly research is going on.
the tobacco plants looked lovely in the bright moonlight
i looked through my sights as the researcher's wife and child escaped
through the back door.
i was relieved
i really didn't want to have to pretend shoot them.
with my weightless assault rifle.
my consciousness cuts to a remote control helicopter
viewing the scene as the wife and baby
make their escape in a speedboat across the river.
i make a few swoops just to let her know i'm buzzing her.
as i cross the road back to my room in the abrams building
i find that i am either a pixie or
the massive jugganauts thundering down the 20 lane avenue
the abrams building is a guggenhiemesque apartment block
the building next door is a marvelous towering organic pagodalike structure
i wonder what goes on in there?
in my bladerunner room i am told by the powers that be
that my mission has failed
i am told to strip.
i am berated by a jury of other naked failures
i feel at home.
i am struck by a bolt of lightning
i wake up.
0 shots fired.
1 criterion met
0 medals earned