Prancing about like a T-Rex was getting me nowhere, so I stretched my arms out to either side as hard as I could and started spinning in place. I reasoned that playing helicopter was the best thing I could possibly do in this situation because a) I might find something useful; b) I might find treasure, and c) I’M A HELICOPTER. Out of sheer habit brought on by repeat viewings of Darkman in my formative years, I whirled and muttered “spiiiiiiiiiiin chop chop chop chop chop” under my breath like a magical incantation – if I’m going to helicopter, it’s gonna be all out.

For a few seconds, I felt nothing but air. I was beginning to panic a little – I’m a pack rat, and I’ve never had enough space to twirl with conviction in any of my bedrooms. I didn’t know where I was, but I was definitely not in the same place I had fallen asleep – I’d have crashed into a dozen things before I was two spins in. I spun a little more frantically, chanting to myself like an idiot to ward off the greeblies also to drown out the music I couldn’t find. There’s got to be something in here. What if I’m in limbo, or some kind of void? Is there music in voids? I’m dizzy. I sure hope I fin–

CRASH

Ow.

Ow. OW! I found something, alright – it’s big and HARD and loud and I think I’m bleeding what the FUCK

I waited for the initial rush of pain to go away and for the clanging to stop. I don’t know what I hit, but it fell over and made a huge racket. Surely someone would come running to see what the enormous noise and accompanying swearing was, right?

is that all there is? is that all there is?

Nothing but Peggy Lee. Well, FINE. I don’t appear to be in any worse shape than the thing I hit; I’ll figure this out myself. I carefully untangled myself from Big Noisy and groped randomly like a 14-year-old in the backseat of a car. I felt .. metal. A lot of metal, actually. I ran my hand up the smooth surface, coming to rest on a bulge. This was starting to remind me more and more of the letter I had written to Penthouse Forums – I never thought it would happen to me, but there I was cupping Optimus Prime’s balls as he clutched me in a sweaty (me) steel (him) embrace – but unlike my adolescent (and let’s face it; adult) fantasies, there was no response from the thing beneath me.

I reached out with my other hand and found another smooth surface, then a rounded one, then an arm and a neck and .. okay, this was person-shaped. But what was it? I reluctantly let go of the bulge and felt around in the general area a face would be. More metal, and some kind of grille .. a visor. It was a metal visor. And a soft thing – a feather? No, a plume. Motherfucker, I’m feeling up a suit of goddamn armour.

I shifted slightly, and something jabbed me in the hip. I reached out cautiously and was met by more hardness, but rounded and comfortable in my hand. A hilt of some kind! Relieved, I tugged on the hilt and was rewarded with a metal schwing as some sort of blade sprang free. It was relatively light but sharp, as evident by the exciting new pain as the sword bit into the flesh of my inquiring poke. I was still confused, but grateful that the blade had been sheathed when I crashed into the armour – and now I was armed. Things were looking up! Even the the music was fading away!

when i was just a little girl
i asked my mother, what will i be
will i be pretty
will i be rich
here’s what she said to me

Fuck.

As Peggy Lee gave way to Doris Day, I heard footsteps outside the maybe door. It slowly started to creek open, and a dim light crept into the room.

Should I:

Stay exactly where I am and don’t move a muscle in the hopes I won’t be seen (page 3), or

Leap up and charge towards the light with my new sword and best impersonation of Xena, Warrior Princess (page 36)?

is that all there is?
if that’s all there is, my friends
then let’s keep dancing
let’s break out the booze and have a ball

What. What is this shit. If I thought waking up to a sappy cover of Bush’s “Glycerine” was bad, this is hell on earth. I cracked open a reluctant eye to glare at my alarm clock, daring the obnoxious red display to show me a reality I didn’t want to face. I had been having a steamy dream; the kind that made me horny anytime we passed a grocery store, and there was still the produce aisle to get through. I don’t want to wake up. I want to go back to the produce aisle.

Alarm clock. Right. My other eye joined the party, as my first hadn’t located the offending device. Nothing but darkness greeted me; darkness and Peggy Lee being all 1960’s emo up in my business. I couldn’t see the alarm clock, but didn’t think much of it – I wasn’t completely certain I had opened my eyes at all. Eyesight was a moot point anyway; all I needed was my trusty snooze button and I could get back to asking strangers if my melons looked ripe to them. My right arm shot out from the warm cocoon of the blankets, and I slammed my hand down on the alarm clock as Peggy sang about how much the circus sucked.

And then I fell out of bed.

There was no alarm clock, or night stand, or anything at all. The momentum of my snooze attempt had launched me out of bed and onto a cold concrete floor. Several thoughts went through my head all at once:

• what the fuck is this
• where is my alarm clock
• shut UP Peggy
• seriously, what the fuck is this
• .. concrete .. ?

Something wasn’t right. I needed to be far more awake than I was to figure it out, so I reached up and yanked my hair hard enough to make my eyes water. It’s not a classy move, but it worked – I was more alert now, and starting to get pissed. First step: find the damn alarm clock and make it stop telling me to keep dancing. Second: find a bathroom, and third: well, I hadn’t gotten that far yet. I have my priorities, and everything else can wait.

My eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness, so I reached out and flailed a little in the hopes of hitting something solid. My arms met nothing but slightly damp air, so I got bolder in my movements. I was a bent elbow away from a full-on Chicken Dance when I heard a new noise over Peggy: a squeaky hinge. I whirled around and saw a faint line of light on the far wall that looked like it could be a door, which might lead to a bathroom.

Should I:

Continue flailing about to look for a light switch (turn to page 17 leave a comment about flailing), or

Head towards the maybe door? (turn to page 82 maybe door! maybe door!)

—

I’m tired of doing NaBloPoMo, but still doubt my ability to string together a cohesive story for NaNoWriMo – so I’m trying something new. I’m going to try to write a Choose Your Own Adventure-style blog story in which the choices are crowdsourced. Leave a comment with your choice, and in the next entry I’ll continue the post based on the “page” chosen. This is completely on the fly, and I’ve got nothing in mind for the direction of this story .. I just want to see what’ll happen next, and at this point you know as much as I do.

Please play along, or I’ll be sad (and look kind of stupid)!