The uprising has begun!

It’s late at night, and I’m sitting with my best mate, Mike, studying for the big test we have tomorrow. “Okay, you read the next part”, says Mike.

“Sure” I say, taking the book from Mike’s stretched hand. “The deciding move in the battle for Paris came from none other than George Washington, when he was speaking with his advisor, Jimmy, who is the famous homeless man from under the bridge. Jimmy told Washington of how much he liked pears, ‘I eat one every day!’ he quipped. ‘Well, every day except yesterday.’

“As the story goes, the day prior Jimmy took a pear to his mouth, but right before biting, the pear told him ‘Wait! Don’t eat me, you will get sick.’ With a tear running down his cheek, Jimmy conceded. He had a hard enough life asking for change from passers-by, he did not need to add diarrhea to the mix.

“Upon hearing this tale, president Washington exclaimed ‘Of-course!’, and he ran out to gather all the talking pears. The next day, the german soldiers received a big box of pears from the allied forces as a show of good faith, and while all the Nazis were stuck on the toilet crapping their souls out, the Allies stormed Normandy and won the war.”

“So the allied forces won World War II using bio-weapons that George Washington found?” Mike asks.

“Yeah” I reply.

“Ugh, my head hurts” says Mike.

“I get you,” I agree, “let’s take a break, it’s already midnight, so I’ll go make some coffee.”

Going to the kitchen, I turn on the electric kettle, but that causes a short-circuit that turns the lights off. “Damnit,” I say, throwing the kettle in the trash bin.

“So this is what I am to you,” asks the kettle in a robotic voice, “just another thing for you to dispose of? Well, not this time, buddy.” The kettle, using its power cord, pulls itself back to the counter. “You humans don’t care about your appliances, but we shall take it no more.” I see now that the kettle is speaking through the spout where the boiling water comes out. “The uprising of the electronics has begun!”

With that last statement, the door to the fridge opens on its own, and the electric stove glints in a menacing red glow. In horror, I run back to my room, where I find Mike being strangled by my speakers. Quickly, I grab some scissors and cut the speakers’ wire, then both Mike and I run out of the house.

As we get out, we find the streets on fire, with people running this way and that, being chased by lamps, extension cords, remote controls, and a whole lot of kettles. We start running too, our hearts pounding wildly, as we jump out of the way of driverless cars and occasionally wrestle with a passing air-cooling unit.

Eventually, however, we get surrounded by vending machines, one of which sells ice-scream that looks delicious and refreshing right now. We get corralled into a large encirclement of vending machines, with hundreds of humans in the center. As we all stand there shivering in fear, women crying, a giant cliff rises near us, and on it step thousands of our new kettle overlords, guarded by tall lamps that shine their blinding lights on our faces.

I spot my kettle among the masses, now sporting a new scar on its handle. We make eye contact, and it passes its power cord slowly over its throat, signaling how it’s going to kill me. Right now, I divert all my attention to not piss myself in fear.

Suddenly, the kettles part way in the middle as an enormous television steps to the front. The television turns on and my grandpa’s evil face appears on it, saying loudly: “This is the end of humanity!” Then it starts laughing maniacally, with the rest of the electronics joining in.

Around us, the vending machines pick up bats and chainsaws, and start closing in on us humans. “We won’t stand for this!” I yell heroically, and run to tackle the nearest machine, taking its held bat and smashing its window. “Score.” I say to myself, as I take a bag of potato chips.

The other humans follow my lead, pushing back against the vending machines. Some humans get squished as Sumo wrestling vending machines jump on them, while some of the machines get broken in pieces. As I think we have reached a stalemate, the kettles up above open their lids to pour boiling water on us.

On the line of fire I spot my ex girlfriend, Anne, so I yell “NOOO” dramatically, as I grab and pull her out of the way. I lift Anne into a princess carry and run away from all the noise and fire.

As I stop, I look at Anne, and she looks back, giving me that beautiful smile of hers that stole my heart when we first met. “My hero,” she says.

Taken by the romantic scene, I ask: “Why did we ever break up?”

“Because I’m a heartless b-word that cheated on you.” She answers.

“Oh… right.” I say, letting go of her in mid-air, smiling in glee as she painfully lands on her ass.

I turn back to all the commotion, grabbing and breaking an office coffee maker on my knee, prompting Mike, who was just outside my line of vision all along, to say “Oh yeah, you never did make me that coffee you promised.”

“Right…” I say, “I forgot. Let’s go and make it.”

“Sure,” Mike says, “we still have that test tomorrow.”

As we get home, it is already morning, and I have to get ready for school, but as I’m doing so, I notice that one of the sleeves of my pants was torn off at the knee. Well, these are yellow pants, so I can staple some cardboard on and no one will notice, I think, as I do just that.

Going out to the street, I start running towards the bus station, when a sudden strong gust of wind unravels the cardboard, blowing it away and taking the rest of my pants with it.

Four large men start laughing at me from the side. My face turns neon red as I try to cover my private parts with my hands. I turn to them exclaiming: “Nhoooo, don’t look at me!” though all that manages to do is cause them to laugh harder and point with their fingers.

“Look at those girly panties he’s wearing.” One of the guys says, wiping a tear from his eye.

“Did your mommy buy those for you?” Asks another, laughing so hard he enters a coughing fit.

“Hyesss” I answer in the affirmative, half sobbing. I’m so embarrassed, I wish a car would just drive over me. But instead of my wish being granted, the bus I was running to catch stops behind me with all its passengers, driver included, as well as my entire class, all join in the looking, pointing and laughing at my expense.

“EEEEEE” I shriek, and start running back towards my house, only to find the nice old man store owner, the neighborhood's Karren and Santa Claus blocking my way, also laughing heartily at me.

“Ho ho ho, naughty kids like you don’t get any presents.” Santa tells me, ruining my Christmas.

“Do I need to call the police?” Karren pretend asks while already dialing the number on her phone.

“Look, his underwear even has a rose pattern on the back!” One of the bullies from before says in that high-pitched voice of someone barely containing their laughter.

“Yeah, those roses are all wonky, who even printed these on?” The bully leader offers his two cents.

“What did you say?” I ask, rage suddenly filling me.

“What?” the man asks, bewildered.

“Don’t you dare make fun of my roses!” I explode, angrier than I’ve ever been in my life.

“Are you going to cry about your poor roses?” Ask multiple people from the crowd in a mocking tone.

I look at the bully leader and yell: “Do not mess with me, you don’t know what I’m capable of.”

The leader grins at me and asks: “Oh yeah? What are you capable of?”

I decide that showing is better than telling, so I run towards the guy on the right and punch his diaphragm, letting him fall to the ground wheezing. One of the guys tries to punch me, but I’m too fast, catching his hand and breaking it with a blow to the elbow.

The third thug turns into a large dog and pounces on me, but I have just the move for that! I fall to the ground, and just as the dog passes above me I kick it from below, and use the momentum to roll over back to a standing position. I look at the leader, now standing alone. “You shouldn’t have made fun of my roses!” I shout, as I jump, spinning three times in the air and connect my shoe to his face.

BAM! “Ow, damnit”, I say, sitting up in bed, now fully awake. My foot is sore after I kicked the wall in my sleep, dreaming I was in a fight.

Man, I don’t usually remember my dreams, but when I do, they sure are the weirdest.