Wow, it's been a while. I'd like to say that school is sapping all of my time and energy but that's not totally accurate. I should probably explain. You deserve that much.
I woke up in the hospital a couple of days ago. And I had no memory of the previous few weeks. Well, not no memory. Just a very... fuzzy one. I recall some faces and places, filtered through the dense fog of a particularly intense bender. Doctors said I had been in a coma after battling a particularly intense "fugue state," in which I was totally out of my own head. That explained the empty memory bank. They wouldn't go into details, of course. That's doctors for you: they'll go on in excruciating detail about your brain aneurysm or your clogged aorta or your unhealthy-looking genitals. But when you want to know what the hell happened, then it's all patient-confidentiality this and the-police-will-explain-further that.
That's about when the police showed up.
Turns out that, in my fugue state, I had... done some things. To storefronts, peoples' homes, city property. I maimed more than a few people; broken bones, mangled limbs, one poor guy's rectum will never work right again. Plus the emotional trauma. Witnesses described a miniature tornado. Cars tossed into buildings, police and firefighters swatted away like so many mosquitoes. It required a t-shirt cannon loaded with two-liter bottles of Dr. Pepper to take me down, apparently (they weren't sure why that ammunition was more effective than the t-shirts and rubber balls they had been using before; something about the sugary explosion, perhaps).
I'm being sued by at least a dozen different people and organizations. Best case scenario: they consolidate it into a single class action so I can save time and only end up out a few tens of thousands of dollars.
The officers asked if I had any memory of why I had done this. What might have initiated my fugue state (I wasn't aware that cops were in the habit of encouraging an insanity defense, but they were very nice gentlemen, given what I had done to some of their colleagues). And, truthfully, I didn't. One moment I was searching the Internet for some blog material, the next I was in one of those beds that jackasses like to move up and down, up and down (I only did it eight or nine times).
The last thing I really recall, with any kind of clarity, was stumbling upon that old Fanta commercial on YouTube. You know the one, with the impressively obnoxious song: "Wanna Fanta, don't you wanna, Fanta Fanta."
Then I... blacked out... and I don't know how or... or... blacked... wanna... Fanta... it's like--oh, oh God no... wanna FANTA WANNA FANTA!!!!!!
