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> 010nerdart#1

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> 1romance10

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The nerd romancer

a way to collaborate on a story, paragraph after paragraph, only knowing the last one...
This nerd romancer was first revealed during the NerdArt #1 exhibition.

Once i was lying down with a heavy fever and i had this remarkable dream.

It was like a sense of déjà vu. It was just wonderful, even if a bit cheesy: I would step down the stairs, and the crowd was wooing me. Me! I couldn't believe this! ME! Of all people!

In my minds eye, the spotlight followed me along the floor to the center stage. As I paused before the adoring crowd, I subtly reached down and adjusted the rhinestone-encrusted strap of my gown. My hand slipped and flew backwards, hitting me in the face and giving me an instantaneous swollen lip.

If they were indeed Cylons, would it change the way I felt? Probably not. After all, they're also made of flesh of blood. Speaking of blood: I had not only cut my lip with that beastly strap but there was a gush of bright red liquid shooting from where my nose used to be. Bugger. But this was not a beauty pageant, this was important. “Focus, baby-doll, focus”, I told myself and took a big step…

Im a stupid German! I talk only in german because i hav learn russian in Scool! Sorry! The incredible Dirk

My second me - Dirk - does not speak english so i had to learn german to understand the whole complexity of myself. Lieber Dirk, ich danke Dir, für diese unglaublich wertvolle Erweiterung meines Horizonts. Doch ich stehe immernoch mit geschwollener Lippe auf dieser Bühne... Was it Dirk who punched my in the face?

This struggle with my personalities was deeply confusing. "Screw this," I shouted. "And screw you, wait, actually screw that whole damn thing." Slowly I peeled off the glitzy layers until I was completely naked. This wasn't going too well.

At least not in the way I ever had well going expected to be. And it wasn't but for the lack of glitzy layers that I realized the mere attempt to fill this void with sense OR emotion would remorsefully send me back to days long delayed.

Somewhere at the back of my mind a long forgotten voice was singing.

"Three blind mice, three blind mice, See how they run, see how they run, They all ran after the farmer's wife, Who cut off their tails with a carving knife, Did you ever see such a thing in your life, As three blind mice?"

But now was not the time to reminisce. This called for action.

and so i did action - without compromise, with all i was able to give. but was that enough? who could know?

I took small tufts of bacon from my pockets and prepared them with the powder the old witch from the second floor had given me earlier. The moment the potion got in contact with the meat the little balls sprang to life, propelling their delicate bodies up in the air and fell into formation. The buzzing grew louder and louder and eventually drowned out every other sound in the building.

Could this be the witches voice in the air? In this chaos the tones seem to form words. "Mice! How many mice? More as in a sack of rice." But it was surely the huge glas of micemilk that made her see mice all over the place. But mice are extinct since the late 80s. As you can imagine micemilk is a synthetic product for years now.

Maybe somebody put something in my drink ...

But to be honest, I wanna be sedated and walk out of this world. Everybody in this room seemed to have a poisoned heart. Come out of the ground, not making a sound, the smell of death was all around. But, hey, nothing's right till it's all wrong. What do they say “Sing, when you’re losing?” With a powerful “hey ho let’s go”, I pushed my naked, battered body forwards.

Forwards, through the wrongness, through the deceptive reality towards something else. That else being a dream, maybe a memory from another time, from another life, driving me onwards, hurry hurry before I go insane.

I´m moving faster and faster, trying to get away from the pictures now popping up in my mind's eye. They are even more worse than the presence, like one huge, never ending back flash. The dark shadows of my past were hiding out for me behind a bush and finally took the change to attack.

i woke up and was totally full of sweat - was that all a horrible nightmare or was it real? i was confused and started to order my thoughts. when did i start dreaming? was it only a one-minute-sleep or has all of that been a dream?

Scenes of last night slowly crept back: yes, I lost my job; yes, I am broke; yes, the landlord wants me gone; yes, my boyfriend broke my arm; and yes, I left him for good! Spend each day of your live as if it was your last they say. I wouldn't want to spend today like yesterday, that's for sure! But then I am running short of boyfriends anyways.

Deciding that today day is the day when my life takes a turn for the better I grab a cup of coffee and some painkillers and head for the park, trying not to think on anything at all. My footsteps make loud noises on the hard concrete, "clack, clack, clack", just like yesterday when.. no, _no_ thinking. At the entrance to the park someone has tagged the words "dysfunctional freedom" on the sign listing all the things you are not supposed to do in the park. As if a park ever meant freedom.

I sink down on a wooden bench and close my eyes. Breathing in. And out. And in again. Suddenly I hear a high pinched voice. "Hey, you!". I open my eyes and all I can see is a rufous squirrel. "Heeeey, yes, I am talking too you," it squeaks, tapping it's furry fingers on my nose. Oh my, Oh my. "Not that guy again," I think.

"Don´t you remember me? I´m Speedy." Yeah that is a perfect match. Speedy the squirrel on speed. But why always me? There has to be a way to get rid of him. Think! Faster!

I pull out the blaster I won last week over a game of poker with Jango Fett and fire two rounds in the direction of the squeaky voice. No luck. Speedy still shoots around my feet like a cannonball. But now there's another voice. A young woman is shouting something like "Oh no, oh no, my baby's imploded". Cripes, aiming was never my strong point at the academy.

Well. Some collateral damage was to be expected. But this was getting to much. To much. To much. I sat down on the bench again, lit myself a cigarette and leaned back. Immediately I fell a sleep and begun to dream.

In my dream I started a career as a gentech designer. A successful one. I designed live unicorns. As artificial beings they were not covered by the UN agreement on keeping the world genetic pool clean. We had them in a number of colors and in different sizes: starting at cute 10" up to the size of a real horse. Turned out the pink 10s - as we called them - were a huge success! But then I woke up again.

The scenery had changed completely. Loud music was throbbing. Two robots were dancing right in front of me, swinging some sort of light guns. The bigger dived into a break dance move while the smaller one sung "All right, everybody now, binary solo. One, zero, zero, zero, one, one, zero, one". The crowd went berserk.