17 March 2013 @ 08:03 pm
[ A young blonde is at a terminal in the dorms, typing away furiously. Her hair is drenched through from the ever constant rain and sitting beside her is what appears to be your stereotypical grey extraterrestrial. Child-sized and looking about curiously, the grey is a passive counterpoint to America's livid demeanor. ]

Hey, just what the hell is going on around here? One minute I'm making plans to celebrate St. Paddy's Day and the next I'm waking up in the Twilight Zone. It's raining. INDOORS! And it looks like I somehow ended up in someone's worst (or best?) latex fetish dreams. My clothes are nowhere to be found, my jacket is gone, this is definitely not my bedroom and not my house, and, ha, oh yeah, apparently the world ended.

Seriously. This joke isn't funny. Somebody please tell me this is just the sad results of one of England's stupid experiments gone wrong and everything will be back to normal if I click my heels and say "there's no place like home". This can't really be happening. It's not possible.