Photo credit: JD Hancock

Green Lantern is a symbol of D.C. Comics.

I ate a huge cheese sandwich before bed last night and had another insane dream. Enjoy.

I was standing on a cliff overlooking a city on the edge of a forest.

I jumped off and began to fall towards the city. I could hear the rush of air as I fell. Time to see if this power-ring I got off Ebay works. I look at my right hand clenched in a fist. Nothing. I stare at the ground rushing up to meet me. Fuck, I’m going to die. At the last second, I glow green and begin to fly horizontal and then up and away from the ground.

“YEA!” I’m screaming and laughing at the same time. This ring must be stolen Lantern Corps Tech. Like a beta release ring before they released their real power-rings. This one only has two powers: flight and teleport. Time to test the teleport.

I teleport into some lady’s house. “Sorry, ma’am. My bad, just testing the teleport power on this ring.”

The lady seems emotionless as she says, “My dog is on fire.”

I look down next to me, and there’s a Pomeranian engulfed in a fireball. It’s yapping in pain.
“Jesus fuck! Why is your dog on fire?”

The lady still sounds emotionless. “Teleportation causes dogs to light on fire.”

“That seems like something that should have come with a warning label.” I look at the woman’s face, down to the flaming pooch and then leave. I’m not dealing with teleportation-dog-fires.

So I go to my mansion. It’s oversized and next to a cliff. No Batcave though, I checked. I’m going to get some ice cream in a big walk in sized freezer. Rocky road, mint chocolate chip, frozen corpse. Hang on.

Frozen corpse? Why the fuck is there a frozen dead guy in my freezer?

I walk back into the mansion holding a cup of mint choco chip and a spoon. There’s a line of folks carrying corpses in black bags walking through my front double doors and hiding dead bodies all over my mansion. Scott Baio is directing them holding a clipboard. Scott Baio? I fucking hate this guy.

“I fucking hate you, Scott Baio!”

Scott looks hurt and asks me, “Why do you hate me?”
“Well for starters you’re hiding corpses in my house,” I’m still eating mint choco chip. “Also you were the chosen one. Then you became a huge asshole! And look!” I’m pointing my spoon at his pants, “Fucking khakis!”

“Who cares what you think,” Scott’s tone is pretty cold by now. “I’ve alerted President Trump that you’re hiding bodies here in Mix Mansion X.”

“So what? I have GuardEx.” I reply. Damn this mint choco chip is dope.

“Guardex?” Scott Baio is waving an angry fist. Everyone knows Guardex is the best drop cam security providers and totally not just something I made up in my dream time brain.

Not caring about the corpses or Scott Baio I concentrate on digging out another spoonful of ice cream. “Yea so Guardex will see you’re a liar and the drop cams will prove you did this. Done. Rot in hell Scott Baio.”

Scott’s voice sounds sinister, monstrous. Almost like it has spirits trapped in it screaming to get out. “No one will believe you.” All of the people carrying corpses now have red eyes. The fuck is this? I fly out the door and off to Guardex headquarters still eating ice cream. When I get there the head of security tells me, “We didn’t see anything?”

I’m shocked, “How can that be?” I notice the head of security’s eyes are red, “Scott Baio has the power of celebrity. He can get away with everything and everyone is under his control.”

“Everyone?” I ask dropping my cup of mint choco chip.

“Everyone.” Security forces with red eyes are swarming around me. “There’s nowhere on earth you can hide.”

“Fuck you; I can fly.”

I fly away, but whenever I look down, I see red eyes looking up at me. Eventually, I find a quiet spot of the earth and go into stealth mode by putting on a black hoodie. I walk the earth. Whenever I pass people, I only look up showing one eye and keeping the rest of my face covered so you know I’m holding stealth mode well. I walk for months and then I hear rumors of an ancient artifact in Bangkok. Somehow I walk to Bangkok. I throw off my hoodie and immediately begin flying into an ornate air vent with gold filigree. Obviously air vents built by an ancient civilization. I soar through the ductwork into a large room with a phosphorescent black and red ring, on the ring is a glowing red grenade. “Fuck yea, Grenade Brothas tech.”

I put the ring on and then immediately fly back to my mansion where Scott Baio is perched on a throne of rotting corpses in the main room. I show my hand with two power rings. Before he can speak the GB ring steals his power.

“Now I have the power of celebrity fucka!”

I grin looking at my hand full of power rings. In a condemning tone, I say, “Go fuck yourself, SCOTT BAIO!” He starts spazzing out in weird yoga poses that look like a character glitching out in Garry’s mod. “Gross,” I add with disgust. “Go do that somewhere else,” looking at the red power ring, “Like hell!” Scott Baio vanishes in a puff of fire just like a teleport-fire-pomeranian would.

Blue Oyster cult starts to play. It’s heavy on the cowbell. Chris Garcia runs into my mansion from the front door wearing a shirt that reads, “Actual Hugo Award winner. No asterisk’.”

He pauses to catch his breath, “We need your new Grenade Brothas power ring for Gerard Butler!”

“Why would I give this to some French actor dude?” I ask while hiding my power ring hand behind my back.

“You never studied.” Chris shook his head. “That’s Gerard De Par Deux.” The words float off his tongue into my vision.

Staring at the words, I ask, “Is that how you say his name? De Par Deux?”

Chris shrugs, “I don’t know. It’s French. The point is we need that ring for Gerard Butler.”

“Who the fuck is Gerard Butler again?” I ask.

Chris nods, “Exactly.”

Then I woke up. Apparently eating cheese before bed is amazing. I think I might do this for 30 days and write a whole book of cheese dreams.