Last night, I was an 80's girl with poofy blonde hair and flourescent purple lipstick. I was vainly gazing into the mirror in a darkened room when a centipede crawled up to my hand. He dug into my thumb, traveled to my brain, and seized control of my mind. He instructed me to indulge in evil plots, and I was captured and sent to the insane asylum.
Here I met my roomates; one lady wore a crimson, colonial-fashion dress and held a candle. She poured hot wax on herself until there was nothing but a cerated stump. She thought she was wet and kept screaming, "I must purge myself of aquiesence!" which really is just a word relating to water that I fabricated in my own head. Another man wormed around in a straight jacket, his face gray and sack-like. His eyes and mouth had been seared shut.
I had to get out. I escaped the gothic-style mansion. A flock of vultures tried to fly after me and peck at me, but I ran down Cleveland Avenue. It was a long, snowy way down the hill, and Canisius had uprooted its trees. I walked inside and found myself not in high school, but at the Mount! There to put up lights for a Christmas festival.