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Monday, February 27, 2006 24 Dreams About 24 Back in the day, I had a boyfriend on the Doulos who used to play video games a lot. He would then have dreams about being in said video games, which included car chases and gunplay and the like. I used to make fun of him for it. Well, now comes the time that I eat my words. Bryce and Ashley now have me totally addicted to 24. In case you were wondering, oh Fans of 24, the reason this hasn’t happened before is because they only show it on satellite TV here in the UK. But B&A have all the seasons on DVD, so it’s quite easy to keep feeding my addiction. The problem is now that I’m now having nearly constant dreams about 24. I’m a secret agent, etc. I thought maybe I should share some of these with you, in efforts to rid myself of them and cure me of this disease. Number One (Or, Day One.) I’m Agent Forbes, a government agent working with the CTU (Counter Terrorism Unit, for those not familiar with the program), Branson, Missouri Branch. Weird Al Yankovic has been targeted for assassination by a small Amish community in central Iowa, where Yankovic is scheduled to travel on his way from Waterloo to a show at the Baldknobbers Jamboree Ampitheatre in Branson. They are apparently still bitter about that "Amish Paradise" fiasco, and have been planning this for the last 10 years. Those Amish are crazy. And I can say that here, because my intelligence has told me that they will never see this, for some reason. Tony (who has been reassigned to the Branson Unit from LA) and I take a trip up to Iowa. Intelligence has warned us the Amish may be armed. We travel up I-35 from Kansas City. Intel warns us to be on the lookout for a billboard that says : “DISCOUNT QUILTS: OUR PRICES ART INSANE!” Sure enough, there it is. Tony and I look at each other, with a knowing look, because…well, we know. Things. Turning right at the Big Red Barn of Yarn, we park in a cornfield, so as not to give away our location. Thankfully, we’ve come prepared with a car painted entirely as a cornfield. CTU is always prepared. We call into the office, and are told in hushed tones to be on a lookout for a black buggy with a large orange triangle on the back. This is unhelpful. We explain to Stupid Mike, one of our office minions, that we’re gonna need more information. Stupid Mike calls back 5 minutes later with more intel. The buggy we are looking for has a “How’s My Driving?” bumper sticker. The driver is wearing old-timey clothes, and has facial hair. No tattoos or piercings. That’s more like it, Stupid Mike. Now get back to work. 12 minutes later, the Buggy in Question goes past. Tony and I look at each other again, knowingly. There’s no time to makeout, we’ll have to save that for later. Tony turns the key on the Cornmobile, and within seconds, we’ve cut Old-Timey off. We’ve caught him off guard. Tony and I surround him, and each point three guns at him, just in case he tries to get away. Old-Timey is scared shitless. His hoe and butter churn are no match for six guns. We cuff him, and take him to the cellar of Big Red Barn of Yarn, which has already been set up by our team for interrogation. I am assigned to interrogation, since I know the Midwestern mindset. Old-Timey is tough, and he ain’t talking. I threaten to make him shave, and he’s squirming in his chair. I then yell that if he doesn’t cooperate, he’ll have to miss the barn-raising this weekend for the Olsen’s down the road. He starts to cry, but still ain’t talking. Finally, I threaten to sew buttons onto all his clothing. I can do it, Old Timey, I can. Because I’m CTU. He finally cracks. Old-Timey, whose real name is apparently Jebidiah, tells me that the ambush is being led by some guy called Harrison Ford, who goes by John in the Amish Underground. It’s going to happen at 7:02pm, as Weird Al is making his way through the town. I throw a button at Jeb in disgust, and walk out of the interrogation room. There’s not much time. Tony and I decide it’s best to go undercover. It’s a good thing I brought my bonnet, and remember my Pennsylvania Dutch, from when it took it in school. We ditch the Cornmobile, and decide to hang out at Ye Olde Shoppe, til it’s closer to 7:02. We call ahead and request full Secret Service security for Weird Al. And no, in case you’re wondering, there was no other route between Waterloo and Branson. If this whole thing doesn’t go down, Weird Al will have to keep looking over his shoulder his entire life. And we don’t want that. National Security is at stake. A little. At 6:56, Tony and I jump a fence in one smooth and effortless motion to take our positions in the cornfield surrounding Rural Route 11. Between 6:56-7:01 PM, we take out 692 Amish men with only a pair of sheep shears, a quilt, three hook-and-eye clasps, and some butter. We take 17 women and children into custody, who are later released, having given us information on a suspected Mennonite terrorist branch plotting to bomb Silver Dollar City next month. Tony and I makeout. Tony and I call Milo, who sends a chopper from Chopper Command. We make our way back to Branson, stopping only for fireworks and some good cheese in Osceola. Another day at the office. *Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock* 11:59:59……. |
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"In the city you will find that the poor and the broken are often much, much more open to the idea of Gospel grace and much more dedicated to its practical outworkings than you are." (Tim Keller) | |
