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Mark Zuckerberg’s Revenge

Nightmare | October 16, 2011

A friend of mine Tyler had made a bunch of money on the internet and retired to a high-tech home on the beach. At the touch of a button the house folded in and closed up like a ringbox for maximum security.

I was staying for the weekend and we had just come in from the beach when the house began to close up suddenly. Neither the button worked nor could we escape out the windows and doors in time. The house began to fill up with smoky, noxious gas like car exhaust. All night we stumbled around coughing, eventually collapsing on the floor with red eyes and haggard breath.

In the morning the house opened up again. Mark Zuckerberg was standing over us with another guy. He held some device about the size of a car stereo to his chest. The main dial and display were facing out.

Tyler squinted up at him. “Mark, why are you here?"

With both Tyler and Mark so close it occurred to me how much Tyler looked like one the Winklevoss twins. Ordinarily I would probably want to shake the hand of the guy who invented the social network I use every few days, but Mark Zuckerberg was strangely sinister in this dream.

“Revenge," Mark answered. “Why don't you go bang your head against the wall and think about what you did to me?" He turned the dial on the device about halfway. Tyler got to his feet. He walked to the wall and began to bash his forehead against it furiously while Mark watched, smiling that goofy grin of his.

I stood there in shock before asking, “Why are you doing this?"

“Oh you. Well, I don't know who you are but perhaps you should go fall down the stairs in the basement, okay?" The dial was turned once again. I thought, wow that is a great idea and proceeded to hurl myself down the rough cement steps down to the basement. I think I broke something. All day and night I lay on the cement floor in agonizing pain.

The next morning I crawled up the steps. Tyler lay cold and dead next to the kitchen wall. Mark and his fair-haired friend were sitting at the breakfast table munching waffles. I sat down next to Mark and across the table from his friend.

“So nice of you to join us!" Mark said brightly. “Waffle?"

In response I picked up a pointy serrated knife from the table and stabbed him in his left breast, up to the hilt. He sat there looking at me in surprise while I tugged out the blade.

Then he smiled. “One of the benefits of being super rich is being able to afford Instant Healing technology." His wound, instead of gushing forth blood through the shirt, appeared to be healing. “Still hurt like hell though."

I thought What about his friend? and lunged across the table, stabbing his friend over and over again, in the chest, neck and face. The guy was stunned, with his mouth open and partly filled with chewed-up waffle.

Mark was amused. “Yeah he's covered too. But I really think you need to stab yourself in the heart right now." He fingered the dial on the device next to his plate, turning it halfway. I could feel the force of the suggestion, but I resisted. When he saw the the device has having no effect he spun the dial all the way up. The power of suggestion was very high now. Since I was stabbing them, I might as well stab myself. Then I knew that to resist the device I had to distract myself. I had to do something now!

I jumped up suddenly, leaving the knife buried in the guy's forehead. Across the room in a cupboard I found a wood saw wrapped in thin brown paper. Mark saw me sprinting back towards him and put up his hands to fend me off. But I was all over him and forced his head to the table, exposing the back of his neck to broad sweeps of the saw. Almost immediately there was a mess of spurting blood as sharp metal teeth thrashed soft flesh. Mark screamed and writhed while I sawed off his head. His friend at the table just watched, evidently still reeling from the numerous stab wounds.

I dropped the bloody saw and picked up the severed head by the hair. This reminded me of a scene in the old Clash of the Titans. I had to get the head far away from the body or they might heal together again! As I ran through the house the headless body lurched after me with its arms raised in front like some old silver screen monster.

Through the front door, across the porch and down the steps. Over the grassy berm and onto the beach I hurled the bloody head like a discus into the ocean just past the shorebreak. It landed on a floating pile of seaweed with a little splash. Eyes open and facing the water, the head of Mark Zuckerberg looked very introspective and contemplative of its fate.

On the porch the body lay sprawled where it had stumbled. As I came into the house Mark's friend confronted me, holding the strange device. “You chopped off his head! You're going to jail for 20 years!"

“It was self-defense!" I retorted and pointed at the thing he held. “Besides, they'll find that and figure out what you two did to Tyler. You'll go to prison for being an accomplice."

We both made the same realization at the same time, and ran in two different directions: I went for the bloody saw on the breakfast table, and he went out on to the porch.

When I caught up to him he was leaning over the bar on the edge of the porch that faced the ocean. On the grass below was a pile of bricks, with the smashed device on top. “Ha!" he shouted.

But I didn't wait for him to move. Leaping up on the bar I pinned his neck down with my knee and rapidly sawed his head off. It fell onto the grass below while the body slumped down onto the deck near Mark's.

I was pretty tired after that. And hungry too. So I walked towards the breakfast table for some waffles.

Tags   Death   Violence   Celebrities

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