Fugitive!

My sister Matie and I went to a pizza parlor. It was like Chuck E. Cheese, except darker and more adult. Lots of games, sea of balls, bad pizza. There were even a couple of rides -- a carousel and a very low-key roller coaster. We ordered and had the usual difficulty.

(I like pizza with no sauce and sausage. Matie likes pizza with no cheese, extra sauce and pepperoni. I am capable of eating be-sauced pizza with only mild annoyance, particularly if it's free, but cheesy pizza causes Matie to pick off the cheese and sulk. We each support the other's pizza preference, reasoning that it shouldn't bother anyone what their neighbor eats as long as they personally don't have to eat it. It does, however, make our order sound like a joke:

"One mini pizza with no sauce. One mini with no cheese."

We need to befriend someone who dislikes pizza dough.)

Our number was called, and Matie went to pick it up. That's when I suddenly realized, in a moment of clarity that can only come in a dream, that I was a fugitive from a shadowy government agency and should get out of the pizza joint NOW. So I did.

I ran outside and kept running, through fields and across railroad tracks. I finally stopped in a small forest and took stock of the situation.

I had only the things usually in my pockets: change, keys, comb, handkerchief, Swiss Army Knife, nail clippers, Chapstick, nail for pounding into my nose, small tape measurer. I also had a cheap flyswatter. I'm not sure where it came from. Its handle was white-coated wire, its swatting surface was orange plastic. I figured I might as well hang on to it. In this sort of situation, it's probably best to hold on to everything, text-based adventure game-style.

Coming out of the forest, I found myself in an enormous field of wheat, next to the highway. The highway was a bit odd, in that it was made entirely out of cinderblocks. It was about eight cinderblocks high. A nearby exit started normally, but after 50 feet became cinder block steps. I don't know how cars were supposed to use the exit.

I debated hitchhiking. Suddenly, a lot of things happened at once.

I realized that I was not a fugitive, but that a family was. Mother, father and two children were barreling down the highway in a spacious SUV, on the run. The children were taking it as an adventure, and the parents were pretty confident. I saw a quick montage of their chase and getaway, from a nigh-omniscient point of view.

I also realized that the father was the President of the United States. Not Clinton or anyone else, but just a Movie of the Week President, some nameless actor with fake grey in his hair and a nice suit.

Also, they were heading this way.

That's when I saw the fireman's tool in the field. It was a big metal axe/crowbar/hammer of a thing, designed to make any situation turn out for the better. Its worn red paint testified to its previous use, but it had no wear or rust from lying in the field. Man, I coveted that beautiful rescue tool, as I have so many of its brothers in my paramilitary catalogs.

Being in the adventure gaming mindset, I was just about to (P)ick it up and (W)ield it. That's when the SUV with the President's family pulled up. There was no shoulder, so they just drove down the exit, stairs and all.

We said nervous hellos. I felt I belonged with them, for no real reason. They felt that too, but were aware of the thought's external origin. The wife looked particularly nervous, and glanced down to the tool. I shrugged, and resigned myself to my flyswatter.

The First Lady got in the car and revved the engine, as the President and I pushed it back up the cinderblock staircase. The operation went surprisingly easily, but I guess the highway guys planned that.

Inside the SUV, it was a great big motor home. Huh. 4-D, I guess. I offered to drive, as I wasn't famous or anything. I asked if this was the car they had escaped in, and the First Lady assured me that they had stolen this one 20 minutes ago.