Lightning Level: A Short Story

The third floor bathroom of Menasha High School has never looked so big. Billy, Alex and Tony huddle near the door. I have no idea why we've met here, but they seem to have some plans. As they pull on their black hooded sweatshirts the only instruction I'm given is from Billy.
"Watch out for my mom."
The back of Alex's sweatshirt has "Mastr B-8" spray painted on it.
This is a dream.
My friends burst through the doors, and I follow behind. I graduated 4 years ago, there is no reason for me to be in this building. Out of the room where I suffered through freshman year German, the most stereotypical Mexican tough guy steps, followed by a tiny version of himself. It's like those "Homie" figures I used to buy at the bowling alley come to life. The bigger one is named Blue. The fun sized one is Blue Jr. (aka Blu-nior.) He speaks.
"Get off the third floor. It belongs to us."
I make a break for the stairs, not looking back until I hit the first landing, halfway to safety. My companions are in Blue's clutches. Their hoods make them easy to grab, apparently. When I look back I notice a gaping hole in the window. Slowly, I poke my head out. On the blacktop below are three chalk outlines. One of Billy, one of Alex, and one of Tony. Blue has gone back inside the classroom, leaving me alone with Blue Jr.
"For your own good, don't ever come back."
I race down the rest of the stairs. First floor. Study hall. There are about 40 students stuffed into desks made for dolls, feverishly writing. Their pencils are actually giving off smoke. At the head of the class is my college history professor. He looks like Stephen Colbert with a wider face, currently bright red from the pain the tiny desk is inflicting on his testicles. After taking a few hesitant steps in, I'm noticed.
"You're not in this class. GET OUT!" the fun house Colbert screams without even looking up. I'm pretty shocked. Especially since I really thought I was in this class.
"GET OUT NOW!"
This isn't a very inviting place.

While staring down at Blue's handy work, I noticed there was a soccer game going on outside. Maybe I'll go join.
Immediately I'm accepted and given a jersey. Maybe soccer isn't so bad. The first half ends with my team ahead by one goal. I haven't scored. There are two lawn chairs on the sidelines and I get one. Front row seat for the creep show I'm about to witness.
A group of cheerleaders take their positions on the field. My focus shifts back and forth between a sticky-looking overtanned lip gloss user and Pink Lisa. The routine is pretty typical "it's cold in here, there must be some bluejays in the atmosphere" stuff. At first.
Then everything gets all slow motion for a minute.
The squad bends over and pulls up their bloomers tight, exposing the outlines of their baby-holes in a way I've only seen in the most amateur of porns. I'm trying not to get hard in my chair, that would only make me worse at soccer.
The camel toes must have distracted me, since I don't remember playing the second half. All I kept wondering was why I've encountered more cheerleader vagina post-graduation than pre-graduation.

Everyone disperses and I see my Dad has come to pick me up. We're going on a road trip with a couple other people, after a quick stop at Arby's.
This Arby's gives me the hebejeebees. It's not an abnormal set-up, but the cold mechanical vibe of the place makes me feel like I've just stepped into Dr. Kevorkian's van. Except instead of Dr. Kevorkian there are attractive ladies.
I get a small root beer. My Dad is looking at the menu trying to make his decision. My mind is pretty made up, since Arby's doesn't have a lot of vegetarian options. The girl taking our order is my age, and is being very foreword with my Dad. This is weird and gross.
"I want curly fries."
"You can't have curly fries."
"Why?"
"You just can't. Don't ask for curly fries."
This sucks. Curly fries are delicious. Now all the employees have come out to eye up my Dad. I can't be too mad though, since he doesn't seem to be enjoying it. The counter girl reaches into her pocket and slowly draws out a knife. I'm going to write a very scathing comment card. My Dad pulls up his sweater to reveal a holstered blade of his own.
Times like these make me glad I don't remember most of my dreams.

Suddenly I'm in a van with my Dad and six other people careening through the woods. My brain is rattling against my skull and it's hard to stop myself from launching out of my seat. We reach a clearing and are halted by a giant Wonderball. The wonderball was my favorite childhood treat. The hollow chocolate globe splits open and multicolored candy toads explode from inside. The van empties and everyone starts shoveling toads into their gaping maws, except for my Dad and I.
The landscape morphs into a psychedelic haze. The queasy feeling in my stomach was justified. I find my Dad.
"Those things are bad news Dad."
"Don't let them see you not eat."
A Mercedes G-4 Wagen bursts through the woods and rumbles past me. Inside the car are two uniformed Nazis. There seems to be no way out of this clearing, but the Nazis aren't slowing down, so they must know something. Without thinking, I jump onto the back of the car. We run down some trees and come upon a deep lake. Stretching across the lake is a rickety wooden bridge. I hop off the car, my blue eyes might not be enough to keep me off a Nazi hit list. The bridge dips under the weight of the German car, bringing the soldiers under the water. After a few moments, they emerge and continue their trip on the other side of the lake.
My Dad is as sketched out by this path as I am. I don't want to go underwater. Our drugged companions begin marching in a line across the bridge.
"Let's just go through here."
My Dad points to a window hovering in the middle of our forest. He slides it open and gives me the OK sign. I step through and come across another lake, but this one is ankle-deep. The clear water reveals perfectly round white stones shimmering underneath. On the other side of the obstacle is a beautiful field of flowers. With shoes off and pant legs rolled up, my Dad and I stroll pleasantly across.

I'm back in what seems like Menasha High, except it's the Dark Ages. My best friend from high school is here. It feels like we're in a video game. My buddy is talking about something called the Lightning Level. He's heard of some people making it there, but nobody has ever come back, so we decided we would need a high rated weapon and a sack full of stimpaks to survive there. We need to stock up on supplies and engage some enemies to gain some experience points.
I pick up three items from the floor. Mjolnir, an hourglass, and a pink limpy. Discovering mjolnir morphed me into Thor.
We kick open a classroom door, unleashing a stampede of viking schoolchildren. After slaughtering them all we decide that we're finally ready for the Lightning Level. The stairs leading to it and steep, and it takes forever, but I finally find myself standing in front of the door to the Lightning Level. I take a deep breath and slowly turn the knob.
I'm alone. The room is small and stuffy, dimly lit by a bare lightbulb. Flies hover in the air without moving their wings. I can move them around with my hands, but that's all I can do here. Nothing else is in this room. The door is gone. There's no way out.I realize everything I've ever done has been leading up to this nothingness.
Ozay.