After drinking too much of a new experimental blend of Rwanda/SWP Decaf through my espresso machine while watching Spartacus "God of the Arena" and promptly falling asleep I had a vivid dream in which I was a fierce Germanic Barbarian who had been captured by the Romans and made to fight as a Gladiator.
These were my weapons: The Patio Umbrella of Annoyance and a pair of Galoshes. I was forced to practice with these weapons of choice from sun up to sun down, pausing for a little gratuitous sex break with the other slaves at high noon. The Doctore would then crack his whip and we would go back to fighting in our g-strings while the beautiful wealthy patrons watched us with wanton and flush expressions on their face. Dubbed the "Mad German" I practiced hard and soon learned how to use the umbrella as a shield and the tied together galoshes as a sort of nunchuck type of weapon which worked pretty well after filling them with rocks.
It was the night of the big fight, all the Roman Big Wigs were in the Arena and I was to fight Heavy Fucking Metal, a much feared creature from space that the Romans had captured during their intergalactic excursions through space and time via a portal that they discovered at an ancient Greek Oracle site. HFM's weapon of choice was "The Bass of Doom" which looked like it could cleave my head in two.
Thankfully, the intergalactic monster machine was chained to the wall to prevent him from using his retro rockets and escaping. He was forced to play his bass in attempt to use its sonic discharges to knock me over. I open my umbrella to protect and annoy and then let my galosh-nunchucks fly, scoring a direct hit around the beast's instrument.
Heavy Metal howled out an Alien Howl and struggled to shake away the troublesome boots as I advanced with my Patio Umbrella of Annoyance to the chants of the overwork crowd. A quick cut to a Roman Peasant flashing her boobs, a shot of tequila swallowed, and then back to the action, as I, the Mad German, advanced ever closer to my destiny with the metal fused beast.
Suddenly, the beasts hands were free and he pounded out a chord that shook the stadium and collapsed my umbrella inward.
Suddenly I was airborne, the sonic wave lifting me like a Tsunami and carrying me out of the Arena. I was free. I crash landed on a mysterious Mediterranean Island where I was then captured by Amazons and forced to serve as the Queen's footstool.
It was then I realized it had all been dream.
The realization snapped me out of it and a I woke in a cold sweat vowing never to drink even a half-caf espresso so late in the evening again. Heck, I am not even German.
