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sometimes my imagination gets away from me (but it always comes back when it gets hungry or horny) -or- a firsthand account of how it is better to accept yourself for the dull, bitter person you are than to try to change any of that at this point in the g

by Freeman Fisher March 21, 2007

i've been dull my entire life. i was born dull, i grew up dull, i sleep dull, i even fuck dull. life was pretty glum, and i had grown to accept the fact that someday, i would die dull. i woke up every morning at six am, and brushed my gray teeth with my baking soda flavored toothpaste. i eat cornflakes with water because i'm lactose intolerant; i used to not be, but i guess milk thought i was too drab and decided to not roll with me anymore. one morning, while pouring my cornflakes into the same bowl i use everyday, a little red ring fell out of the cereal box. i studied it. i super studied it. it appeared to be too small to fit on any of my fingers except maybe my left pinky finger (which is smaller than my right pinky finger…weird, huh?), which is where i decided to put it. it also had an inscription on the inside, it said "imagination ring".

i put the ring on and immediately started imagining things. i imagined that my cornflakes were actually frosted cornflakes and ate six bowls; only i didn't use the same old bowl, i used six different bowls! then i imagined that i was still hungry and imagined i could cook. so i grabbed a couple random ingredients from around the house, and imagined they were the ingredients i needed to make the imaginary meal i had imagined imagining. after cooking, and dirtying nearly every pot and pan in the house, i decided to sit down and feast on my imaginary king's feast. it tasted like shit, but i imagined it didn't!

after imagining to fill up on my imaginary food (which was real food that i was imagining was different food…see all the different levels of imagination employed, here? this wasn't just any normal imagination ring, it was surely top of the line), i couldn't help but notice what a mess i had made. i imagined the oven was a dishwasher and shoved all the pots and pans in there, all the plates and silverware, too; even the stuff i didn't use, because i imagined that an interplanetary spy snuck into my house and coated all my dinnerware with poison so that when i ate with it, i would die. i even ripped my cupboards down from the wall, because i couldn't help but imagine that they were giant radio antennas transmitting all of my thoughts into outerspace.

i took the cupboards (or antennas) outside and got a fire going. i imagined my three cats were kindling (which is actually funny, because kindling can also refer to a litter of kittens) and used them to help me get the fire started. i burned the antennas and imagined that i put the fire out.

i ran back inside because i couldn't help but imagine that i had to pee and maybe even take an imaginary poo. i finished my imaginary business and stepped up to the sink to wash my hands. i noticed a ring on my pinky finger and decided that i had better take it off if i hoped to wash my hands properly. i removed the ring and then suddenly felt like i had just woken up. how had i gotten to the bathroom? i looked in the toilet, it was filled with toilet paper, but the paper appeared to have been unused.

i wandered out into the kitchen and noticed my cupboards were missing. it was clear that someone had been here, but who? that's when i noticed the flames outside my window. i ran outside and was confronted with a raging, but controlled, bonfire size fire. i had to call emergency services. i had to call nine-one-one. i ran back inside and found the phone. i then used the phone, because that's what you do with a phone when you find it.

i had to sit down, i needed some water, i had to take a real pee. i went to the bathroom and relieved myself and washed my hands. as i was drying my hands, i noticed a little red ring sitting on the side of the sink. i picked it up and studied it. i super studied it. it appeared to be too small to fit on any of my fingers except maybe my left pinky finger (which is smaller than my right pinky finger…weird, huh?), which is where i decided to put it. it also had an inscription on the inside, it said "imagination ring".

i put the ring on and immediately started imagining things. i looked in the mirror and imagined my reflection was a real person who came to tie me up and replace me in the real world. i imagined that he would keep me locked in the closet and he would live my life, as me, and feed me and chastise me every once in awhile. you can only imagine that i wasn't having any of that. i busted the mirror with my fist and ran out of the bathroom in an adrenaline- and imagination-fueled rage. i imagined my couch was a barricade against enemy forces and dove behind it just in the nick of time, as i imagined hearing two imaginary bullets go whizzing by my head. i even imagined one nicked my imaginary helmet.

i peered over the couch; the fire blazed outside from an overturned hummer that had been destroyed by an enemy assault. i imagined that hummer was my only lifeline, they had been coming to save me and were the only ones who knew where i was. i imagined my time was almost out and that enemy forces would be closing in on me shortly to capture me.

i heard vehicles outside. there were sirens and flashing lights and i could only imagine that it was the enemy's reconnaissance crew. i noticed the remote controls for my various appliances lying on the floor closeby. i imagined they were handguns and decided i wasn't going down without a fight. i grabbed two of the remotes and charged the door. i flew out the door, firing at the men surrounding the house. i hit the ground hard. my ring slipped off and became shuffled with the surrounding brush. i lost consciousness.

it's been awhile since i put on that stupid fucking ring, and a lot of the memories have come back to me. however, too little too late applies here, as i'm going to be locked up in this institution for quite sometime. the police found my mirror shattered and my cats and cupboards charred in my backyard, and all my dinnerware in my oven. oh yeah, i also tried to shoot them with the remote control for my cd changer…sooooo, you can only imagine what everyone thinks of me. i know i can't (imagine, that is), not anymore.

i tried to tell them about the ring, but i think that everytime i mention it, i just get another six months added onto my time here…and i talk about the ring a good bit. they try to say i'm making it all up; that i must have some imagination. but that's exactly what i try to tell them, that i have no imagination; that i'm just dull old me. born dull, grew up dull, sleep dull, even fuck dull; probably die dull: dull and locked up.

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