Proper Insanity

It was a standard issue Friday. Nothing special about that day, but that was to be expected. This story does not pertain to that day but to a young boy. This boy was what was truly extraordinary. The day of the week changed on a constant basis, very inconsistent, as any Monday may be better than any Thursday, any Wednesday can triumph over a Tuesday, and where even Saturday and Friday are in a deadlock for best day some weeks, just as soon as one claims victory over the other. Similar as to how months and numbered days bare no specific importance. Some numbered days may appear to bare great memories, but the day holds no such memory. No numbered day remembers your first date. No numbered day remembers your first kiss. Indeed, no numbered day holds any memory of anything great; instead, it sits and takes the place of such great memories. For this reason, that Friday bared no specific detail, other than a reference point. This day, numbered the 20th of January, holds no importance. This is merely a time slot in which a miraculous event takes place, starting with a young boy. A short and scrawny boy with no real strengths at first glance. He was of a darker complexion, enough so that people knew he wasn't pure Caucasian. Not only was his hair an awkward blonde, it was also curly. This stood out against his dark skin. No one knew of this boy's real decent, not even the young boy. All anybody knew was that this boy went by the name of Robert.

The Friday of January 20th seemed like a standard day to Robert. His morning routine carried on with no disruption. He woke up, got out of bed, showered, brushed his teeth, got his school work together and left for high school. This was his usual routine... but alas, it was not. He noticed how easily he got out of bed that morning. He also took notice to how ready he was for school. The more young Robert thought about this, the more he realized how the morning was not just another morning. Normally, he would not simply get out of bed, but lazily drag himself around instead. Normally, he would not ready himself, but quite the contrary; he would usually hide his books from himself in order to excuse himself from being at school on time. This day, he was ready, almost excited for school, as if by some miracle all of his social problems were null. This was not the case. As Robert approached the school, he could hear that familiar voice shouting from afar.

"HEY! BOBERT!"

The call of that name alone would alert Robert that there was no turning back now. As soon as he heard that particular name, called by that particular voice, he knew that the rest of the day would be no different. He started to beat on himself, thinking that this day would be any different from any other day. So what if his morning wasn't normal? Normal wouldn't be the word to describe someone such as Robert anyways. What does normal even mean? If by normal, people mean the average, then most people are nowhere close to average. A large percentage of the world is Chinese, so can anyone who isn't Chinese also be classified as abnormal? If we're all different, then why do people focus on normality? If it isn't bad enough that your social life depends on a society based "normal," your professional life is also at risk. For the first couple years of your life, you're taught that everyone is different, that no two people are alike. For the following 12 - 18 years of your life, you're confined to a prison having someone else's ideals shoved down your throat, the same as the person next to you. The same as everyone else, for that matter. This may have been a large part of why Robert hated school so much. The hypocrisy of it drove him mad, but this was just fuel to the fire. The initial spark came from another source. A source that is intent on making Robert's life a living hell. A source that stays with him in his thoughts at all times. A source that insisted on calling him "Bobert."

"HEY BOBERT! OVER HERE!" The voice insisted. The voice belonged to Billy Alexandre, a man so big that his height is only second to his ego. Every morning, Billy would look forward to picking on poor Robert. Ever since a teacher called Robert by the name of "Bob," Billy has yet to address him by any name that is not "Bobert." It almost seemed as though he gained some sort of satisfaction by calling Rob a name that wasn't truly his. It was as if Billy was given a reward of some sort every time that Rob responded to this false title.

"What? What do you want from me?" Robert finally replied. He usually ignores Billy, but this time was different. Maybe this day truly was different than the others, as if such a disrespecting reply warranted Robert some sort of freedom away from the clutches of society that grasped so firmly on to his life. As if, by actually communicating on the basis of free will, all of a sudden he could force his problems away. Alas, this was not the case, as Billy started to advance towards Robert.

"What do you mean by that?" Billy said. "I just wanted to have a conversation with my little buddy Bobert. Is that a crime? What kind of person are you to judge me before I’m even near you? With the evidence that was given, I was just looking for a friendly talk, yet you don't seem to think that way. What would cause such tension between us?" This series of questions was asked in a very sarcastic manner. Robert and everyone around him knew damn well that Billy was not a person of peace, but one of violence and hate. Billy had no reason to be friends with Robert, so he used him as a punching bag, both verbal and physical. Billy put his arm around Robert. "What could I have possibly done to cause you to react in such a way?"

Robert pulled away. "Why would you ask? Do you get off on hearing the violence that was caused by your hand?" Robert was angry, and he was showing it. At this point, he realized what he had just done. He had just started war with the largest bully in school. This is the first time that Robert had ever spoken up for himself, but as quickly as the words left his mouth, he wondered if he would ever live long enough to speak those words again. He was fearful for his life. What have I done? I'm not even at school yet and I’ve already started a fight! Why couldn't I just keep my mouth shut?

Billy's face began to redden, as if he had been slapped from every angle. Due to the size of his ego, someone actually standing against him may just have been the equivalent. Billy was noticeably angry at this point. He was ready to snap, be it metaphorically or literally. At that moment, Rob didn't know whether Billy would snap mentally or snap Rob's spine, but seeing as both options would turn out terribly for him, he tried to get away from the situation. This was a moderately effective plan, as he got away, but would later have to deal with a raging building with legs. Seeing as how Rob was safely away from him at the moment, he didn't worry himself any more than he had to.

Robert finally made it to school. This was probably the first time that he was glad he was at school, but as he learnt earlier today, there's a first time for everything. He was focusing more on surviving the day rather than math home work that he didn't do. He didn't even care about his classes anymore, just so long as he was away from Billy, he could be in the middle of the ocean as far as he cared. Robert finally took his first step onto the school property and noticed something odd. His homeroom teacher, Mr. Deadlok, and his math teacher, Mrs. Horton, were conversing by the main office. Mr. Deadlok noticed Robert, and slowly approached him.

"Me and Mrs. Horton were just talking about you. We've noticed that your grades are slipping. How are things at home?"

Well, my parents left for vacation--five months ago--everyone in school hates me, I may die later today, I will have to live my life in this flawed system you people call a country and to top it all off, I'm apparently failing school! Robert thought to himself. He of course would never have the courage to tell this to a teacher, especially not Mr. Deadlok. "OK. Nothing abnormal." There is that damn word again! Mr. Deadlok’s face was a curious one, but he ended up just shrugging it off.

"If you need anything, anything at all, we're here to help." said Mr. Deadlok. This was not an amusing morning for Robert. First, he started a fight with the largest kid in school, then he found out he was failing, and now the teachers thought he needed counselling. As if the teasing and tormenting of the kids wasn't bad enough, the teachers pity him. Be there no one to think him a decent being? Robert began to slowly walk to homeroom, all the while being crushed by a compilation of depression, sorrow and fear. He made sure to walk at a much different pace than Mr. Deadlok, as they shared a destination, yet lacked a wanting to communicate. Robert wanted to converse with his teacher about as much as he wanted to confront Billy.

Robert made it to homeroom without any physical confrontation with Billy. He celebrated his small victory as much as he could before he realized that Billy was in his last period class. Robert set this thought aside, as thinking about his fated death was not of real importance at that moment. His main priority was to bullshit his way through the day ‘till he could get home and lie in his bed for no predetermined amount of time, as soon, it would be Saturday. Saturdays were great days for Robert as this meant no school and thus, no forced meetings with anyone. Nothing had to be done on Saturdays. Unfortunately for him, that day would be further away than previously imagined. The day's wait would be long and unfruitful. Robert had no idea of what adventure awaited him, all he knew at that moment was that the kid sitting beside him needed a breath mint quickly, or even just a Haz. Mat. suit would suffice.

The school that Robert attended had a weird way of teaching students. It was more experimental, but was designed to keep morale high. The classes for the week were chosen at random, so it was all luck of the draw. Homeroom was different in the way that it was just five minutes every day before school to tell everyone their current status, if there was a schedule rearrangement or even just to say "Good luck on not dying today!" Robert saw this as fairly useless as they might as well have just kept classes in the same time slot every week and just avoid the confusion overall. Robert abandoned the idea almost as quickly as he adopted it. He knew that there was no room for change.

Robert had been sitting and staring at the wall for what felt like 10 minutes before Mr. Deadlok actually made it to the classroom. What felt like an eternity actually turned out to be less than a minute. As Mr. Deadlok entered the room, he and Robert made awkward eye contact, as if to telepathically say something to object to each other's presence. Though Mr. Deadlok appeared to care about the well being of Robert, he truly did not. He did what he had to do to make himself look good in front of the other teachers. If he had it his way, he would probably beat Robert. This feud between teacher and student started as Robert had many ideas the year before, such as a political cube instead of a political spectrum. Mr. Deadlok would pass these ideas off as his own to other teachers. Robert found out and completely outed him in front of everyone, and Mr. Deadlok had a temporary suspension from his job while he was examined for competence as a teacher. After a week, the board found him fit for a teacher. Ever since then, the anger they felt for each other had only built up like a tower of rage.

After Mr. Deadlok dismissed the class for first period, Robert ran to his math class. Normally, Robert hates math, but nothing else is going to plan today, maybe he'll end up being a math genius for the day. When Robert finally made it to math class, he sat down in his seat. He was the first one there. This had never happened before, noticeable from Mrs. Horton's startled reaction.

"This is a first. You're normally late or you don't even show up. Why all of the sudden? What did Mr. Deadlok tell you? Did he threaten you?" She said in a playful manner. Robert almost took offence to this, saying that a threat would be required for him to actually care about his academics, but then he realized how close it was to the truth.

"No threat, at least not today." Robert responded. Mrs. Horton knew of the ongoing conflicts between them, but tried to stay out of the matter. In turn, Robert would keep her out of as many arguments as possible. Mr. Deadlok would try to bring others into their fights, but Rob would do his best to keep the fight between them.

"Well, that's good to hear, for the most part." she said. Other students began to flow into the classroom and the room slowly began to fill up. The class carried on as normal once the bell rang. Five minutes into the period, Robert knew one thing for sure—he was definitely not a math genius. The more equations Mrs. Horton wrote on the board, the more distant Robert's mind became. As much as he tried, his mind refused to stay on the topic of quadratics and insisted on focusing on how 4th period marked the end of his existence.

The remainder of math class was a blurry mess. Rob had no sense of time at this point. There was no practical differentiation between hours, minutes and seconds, as far as Robert’s distorted perception could tell.

Time seemed to implode with a large glop. Robert had no knowledge of when math ended, or how he even got to his next class. All he knows is that he woke up in the middle of history. His teacher was very displeased. He supposedly passed out in the middle of one of her famous lectures. Seeing this as a sign of disrespect, she sent him to the office with a detention.

When he got to the office, he noticed one kid already sitting there. He appeared pretty normal, not like anyone that would be in the office for disrupting class. Then again, Robert knew not to think using normalcy anymore. For all Rob knew, this kid could have stabbed Mr. Deadlok. Robert somewhat wanted to believe this to be true. As much as he wanted this to be true, he knew that there was no way that life could turn up that easy for him. There was no way that fate would allow for one of his main tormentors to lose the ability to ruin his life. Rob knew that if he were to kill Mr. Deadlok, he would have to do it himself. He sat there, pondering various ways to kill his teacher, but in the end, decided against it. Rob abandoned the idea and went to sit down. Before he had the chance, the principal called "Greg" into his office. The other kid, presumably Greg, got up and walked into the principal's office. Robert sat and wondered all of the possible things that Greg could have done. Maybe he told off a teacher. Maybe he was caught sneaking in the girl's locker room. No matter what it was, judging by the sound coming from the office, Rob knew it wasn't good.

When Rob was done worrying about Greg, he thought about his own issues. Why am I still even here? I could leave right now and I wouldn't have to explain myself till Monday, by then I can think of a great excuse. What are they gonna do, call my parents? Besides, I'll only be missing one day of music and gym. It's freaking music and gym, and this way, I get out of dealing with Billy. At this point, Robert had made up his mind to leave school mid-day; it was just a matter of before or after his meeting with the principal. He eventually decided to leave after the meeting, as he did not want his last human interaction for three days to be awkwardly staring at a guy named Greg, wondering if he killed your homeroom teacher.

After what felt like five minutes, Greg left the principal's office, and just bee-lined for the door. Robert figured that either the principal went all out on him, or he just really needed to pee. Both options seemed just as plausible. Then the door opened once more, except this time, the voice called for Robert. He went to the door, and ZAP! A large jolt of static electricity decided to unleash its full potential to the door knob, violently shocking Robert. "OW, FUCK!" shouted Robert. As soon as the words left his mouth, he immediately regretted the decision. The principal, furious at this point, yelled at Robert to sit down in a chair.

"First, you disrespect a well honoured teacher, now you are shouting obscenities in my office? I should have you suspended from school for your recent behaviour!"

That's an option?

"Not to mention your failing grades! Now look, though it may seem that the world is against you, we are here to help you. We will try to help you in any way that we can, but you have to be willing to help yourself first. This attitude has got to go!" The principal raged on. Robert wasn't really listening to him, but instead was wondering if Greg had this kind of treatment. What kind of things did Greg do? Where did he come from, where did he go? After a while of thinking about a completely random stranger and drowning out what ever garbage the principal spewed out at him, the principal had actually asked Robert a question. "What will you do differently? What changes can I expect to see?"

"I will be more responsible..." ...By choosing to leave before I have to deal with you. "...By paying attention in class, being more respectful of my teachers and being more aware of my surroundings before I carelessly swear." Robert didn't believe a word of what he was saying. This was just a way of getting out of his office and back home without making a scene. The principal did not really care for Robert's false commitments, but saw no point in keeping him further. After a very short period of useless interrogation of whether Robert meant what he said or not, the principal decided to finally just let him go back to class.

As Robert had already planned, he was not going to History, or any other class for that matter. He wasn't even going to stay for lunch. He had already made his mind to leave the school grounds and return home before anyone had the chance to stop him. Be them teacher or student, no one would get in the way of Robert's escape from this prison. As soon as he left the office, he headed straight for the school's main entrance. The halls were completely deserted. This was very profitable as there was no one to delay his travel back home. As soon as he stepped outside, he noticed how oddly bright it was on that day. It was an overall beautiful scene, as there were many evergreens with a thin layer of snow that brightly twinkled as the Sun's rays refracted through the crystalline structured ice fragments scattered about. Robert hesitated to move at first as to not destroy the scenery, but then realized that the longer he stayed, the more likely it was for someone to see him. He looked away before he moved so that he would retain a small mental image.

On his way home, Robert had many thoughts. Why are we forced into a school system anyways? It goes against teachings and great men's words. At this point, it would seem logical to fix something that is claimed to be broken, but it would be too much work. Too much money. Why does money even exist? What makes painted sheets of cotton so damn valuable? Are they a physical form of work accomplished by a person? If THIS is the case, then it certainly isn't working, as money can easily be stolen, withheld and can even be printed. Money may not even hold this purpose. Maybe it exists to keep the rich separate from the poor. Maybe this is all entertainment for government. What makes one person better than another? It would seem to be how easy one can live, which comes back to the money issue. What if money were just to be abolished completely? What if there was no money, and people could just live as they please? But if people could do as they please, this would allow for rebellion. This new society would have to be filled with people of a pure mind. People who will do what it takes to continue to survive. People who would do many tasks, not because he fears electricity bills going unpaid, but because he knows that he has no electricity bill to pay. Robert's thoughts were stuck on this topic for the majority of the way home. He would think of a topic at random and start to argue with himself, seeing if he could come up with a solution. Robert did this a lot, as there weren't many people who he could talk to. Talking to himself seemed to be a fine supplement, as he knew his thoughts and knew there would be no miscommunication with himself.

As Robert neared his home, he continued to think about a perfect society where there was no currency. A society in which all who belong receive the right to live with basic food and shelter. I guess that would make me a communist. No, for communism sees all as equal. All people are different, so why should everyone be treated the same? No, I reject that thought. That is the same thought which drives the tremendously flawed system that is known as the "School Board." Accepting pure equality into their society makes a leader blind or hungry. What would be needed is equal opportunity. Where one man has the same potential as any other, but not the same path. Where a man is seen as anyone else is, but has a possibility to be like no one ever was. As he neared his house, his thoughts became more scattered and less profound. As he walked up his driveway, he thought to himself What if monkeys could fly? How awesome would that be? Flying monkeys... He thought about many things, some great thoughts, and other more abstract. Of all thoughts he had, only one of them had managed to actually bring about a reaction. A thought so filled with meaning that it brought about a physical response. The Game. "FUCK!" Robert screamed aloud as he stood outside his door.

Robert opened his door softly and with care, as if it were made of glass. He closed the door, locked it, and threw his keys in the middle of the entrance hallway. He always threw them on the ground with the mentality that if he stepped on them on his way out in the morning, he most surely would not forget them. To that day, he had not forgotten his keys once. As he made his way to his bedroom, he noticed he had yet to eat lunch. Robert changed his destination from his bedroom to the kitchen.

When he made it to the kitchen, he went to the cupboard to pull out some canned spaghetti. He pulled off the metal can's top, cut his finger, swore, threw out the lid and then sat down to eat it. He didn't microwave the dish even though it said to do so on the can's label. Not once had he ever heated it up, and he never planned to do so. He figured that if it didn't kill him the first thousand times, it wouldn't kill him to eat precooked food once more. While he sat, eating his lukewarm spaghetti, he began to think about whether or not he should have gone with ravioli. After mild pondering, he later accepted his fate to finish his can of non-ravioli. As he got up, he noticed that he had made quite a mess with his lunch. He had spilt a bit of the spaghetti sauce on his shirt, which he promptly licked afterwards. The stain wasn't truly gone, but it was good enough for the time being. He decided to wash it later with the rest of his clothes. For now, he was free to do whatever he wanted. He quickly realized that his options were very limited as there wasn't much to do. He decided to go to his room to take a nap or figure out something better to do along the way.

As he made his way to his room, he passed the guest room. He stopped mid way to his destination to lie down on the soft bed and think to himself. This bed is much softer than mine. Why don't I just take this room? Meh, it doesn't have as much space as mine. I don't really like this colour, either. I wonder what this room would be like if it were a more vibrant colour. I would just need to paint it a nice blue or even a brighter brown. But then again, it may lose its feeling. This room has a certain feeling about it that painting it a different colour may destroy. Would painting it even be worth it? Is it really the colour that would make the room? If the room is a bad room, its colour won’t change that, but what if a room is defined BY its colour? Wait, why am I going on about a room colour? I don't even like this room, I just want the bed. I'll probably swap the mattresses tomorrow. And at that thought, Robert got back up to his feet, walked out the guest room, and carried on to his bedroom.

When he finally made it to his room, he noticed that he now had time to finally work on his book. This was an on and off project that he had struggled to make. He had only made one complete chapter, but now that he had some free time on his hands, he decided to make some progress. His book was about two orphans named Blaze and Raelyn growing up together. They would start to date after a couple years, and eventually get engaged. Due to an accident where Raelyn stepped on some broken glass, Blaze rushes her to the hospital. While they do some blood work to make sure she has no infections, they find that she has two brothers and two sisters, but one of the brothers turns out to be Blaze. Robert had this idea for many years, but only recently had he begun to scribe this tale. He sat down at his computer and began to type what came to mind:

The next morning, we all gathered for breakfast. Raelyn and I had been sitting next to each other, due to the fact that everyone else hated us for unknown reasons. As I feared, she noticed the large wound. I didn't want to tell her what really happened, in fear that she would be mad at me for being violent, but I knew I'd be madder at myself if I lied to her. I tried to tell her, but no words were coming out. I didn't want to tell her because she was the only person who was nice to me, yet I wanted to tell her because it'd be worse on me if I didn't. Before I could say anything, she noticed that the boy who hit her wasn't at breakfast. She asked where he was, but all I could do at that point was look at the floor. She looked at me in disbelief and I could read her emotion. She asked, "Did y- did you really?" I nodded. I made sure she got the real story and not some bull crap forged by rumours. I braced for impact, I tensed up, expecting her to hit me, punch me, tackle me, and I was preparing for worse. I could take a hit, especially one from Raelyn, but what I was bracing myself for the most was her to hate me. Even if she left a bruise, that would heal. If she hated me too, I didn't know what I would do.

That was enough writing for Robert. He was pleased with the amount of work he got done and the effort he put into his book, so he decided to go play a video game instead. He loaded up his Nintendo 64 and put a "Super Mario 64" cartridge into the console. This was one of his more common hobbies, as not only could he truly say that he had accomplished something, but it also distracted him from reality. He would repeat the slide challenges many times, as those were his favourite levels. He truly rejoiced as he beat any levels that took place under water, as he found those ones to be especially difficult. After collecting about 6 power stars, he decided to call it a night and head off to bed. Before he fell asleep, he couldn't help but notice that 7:00 PM was too early to fall asleep. With this notification, he didn't doze off quite yet. He, instead, lay awake staring at his ceiling, letting his mind run unrestrained through any thought that came to mind.

Damn, it's too early to sleep, but too late to go for a walk. I didn't have any dinner today. Oddly, this doesn't bother me. I could go for some pizza, but I am more tired than I am hungry. I'll just deal with hunger tomorrow. I hate it when teachers bitch at you for not having a lunch. There's no point to it, and when you finally DO bring a lunch, "you know you're supposed to heat that up!" Oh, I'm sorry, didn't realize that canned food has 13 different diseases in it that will kill you, unless you slightly nuke it. Because lukewarm precooked food is much worse for you than if you were to zap it with radiation for 3 minutes. It's even better when people show up to school late and get away with it because they were too busy putting make up on. That is hardly an excuse. Why should a girl get time off of school to put powdered plastic on their face when I get sent to the office for passing out? Why do people even bother with cosmetics and apparel anyways? It's clothing! Basic shelter! One of the many necessities for survival. It's like making fun of someone because their water tastes funny. No, not even, because funny tasting water can be anywhere from life threatening to a little bit of minerals in your water supply, meanwhile clothing is individual taste or lack thereof. I care not what I wear, as long as it fits, and why is that so terrible? Why is it deemed bad if you don't wear the same type of clothes as popular people? Popular people wearing clothes... I'm pretty sure they're not wearing clothes more frequently than they are. As if sex in high school is some major to-do thing. I find this completely shameful, as I have to be associated with these incompetent morons who have underage sex, judge others based on clothes, pay no attention when others speak and show complete disrespect for others. Why did I have to be born to such a shameful generation? I wish... I wish... I wish that there was just a large wave of something to cleanse this God-forsaken world. Something that would not kill all, but seed out the weak, the cocky, the disrespectful... something that would truly test someone's abilities. Something like..... A ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE!

Robert had no idea if he had gone insane, or was just desperate for a way out of this miserable thing he called a life, but he was intent on making sure that some way, if zombies ever came to be, he would be able to survive the whole ordeal while flushing out those who he did not see fit to live. It would destroy all impurities, while still leaving the strong willed and open hearted alive. After the apocalypse, I could then rebuild society. A society with equal opportunity! Robert began to smile widely, noticing how profitable a zombie outbreak would be to him. I could finally get rid of the corruption of this world and instill a new method of government. One with a central power. With one large office that would deal with complicated issues, a smaller section to deal with chaotic outbreaks, where all children would be schooled for free, where there would be little to no industrialization, but orchards and fields instead, where people help each other out of the kindness of their hearts. But alas, be this sleeper's dream or an awoken event, it is not a decision for me to make, but one for me to see.

On that final thought, he slowly drifted off into a slumber. He felt his body sink into the mattress as if it were made of gelatin. He felt his body grow heavier and his mind less focused. He knew not how late it was or even how long he would sleep, but he cared not, for he may deal with his problems tomorrow. He was done and over with today and awaited tomorrow, as, then, his problems would be easier to deal with. As he became less conscious, his mind became more at ease, allowing for less thoughts. Robert lied there about as active in the mind as a carrot. He remained motionless as he allowed all feeling to escape his body.

Except not all feeling left his body. Shortly after he truly fell asleep, he felt a sensation similar to jumping from a plane with no parachute. He felt in a complete free fall toward the ground at a high velocity, wondering if he would survive an impact with whatever ground there may be. Robert felt scared and uneasy as the longer the sensation drew on, the faster his decent became and the harder the impact would be. Terrified at this point, he wondered if there even was a ground. Will there be something to break his speed and end this cycle or will this torturous feeling continue on for all eternity. He prayed for death so that he may end his suffering, but his prayer remained unanswered... until...

He hit the ground with a large THUD and bounced awake. He slowly looked around. This was not the land that he was accustomed to. He briefly looked around, still writhing in pain for the fall, and he noticed that he was no longer in doors. The bright sun blazed into his eyes, making the pain even more intense. He grabbed his stomach to contain the pain, but then later realized that he wasn't hurt in the slightest. Him falling must have just been a dream, but he couldn't say the same for where he was. He took another good look at his surroundings to see if he could recognize where he was. Nothing appeared to be familiar, but he did work out that he may have been in a park. He then looked down to realize that he had no clothes on. How he wound up naked in the park, he had no idea. All he knew at that point was that he needed to find some shelter and something to cover himself up. He found a nearby shrub and dove into it to mask his naked body from the world.

He tried to look around to see if anyone saw him, but there was no one there. Robert was trying to figure out if this was a good thing or a bad thing. In the far distance, he saw a few brightly coloured houses. He could see some activity by them and wondered if he should go ask for help. He later refused to go, as a fully naked guy asking where he was is usually a sign to avoid all contact. So, he decided to helplessly sit in the bushes until someone walked by. In the distance, he noticed what appeared to be some brightly coloured horses. One was pink and the other was orange. Robert almost didn't believe it, but he later figured that there was a parade going on and that their riders left them there while they ate. This still picked at the back of his head as he had yet to see a single person.

"Ummm.... Hello?" The voice startled Robert to the point where he almost jumped out of his shrub. He then calmed down and apologized to the feminine voice.

"I'm sorry, you startled me. What were you say-" Robert lost his voice as he saw what he was talking to. The feminine voice was coming from a cream-coloured horse with a long, curly, dark blue and hot pink mane. The horse also appeared to have three, wrapped, hard candies tattooed to its butt. Robert collected his thoughts and realized that a horse had just welcomed him, and that he had to apologize... to a talking horse. "What... The... Fuck...”