Lock-out

M smiles.

Or so he thinks, at least.

He smiles in his sleep, for he is dreaming. He dreams of the future, of the past, of things that might have been but never were. Of things that may be, but never will. Images of impossible things. Of cigarettes, of tobacco, of electronic key fobs that are rendered ineffective by airport X-ray machines.

M (also known as Dr. T, praise be unto him) dreams of curly hair that never was; of presidents who light a cigarette, but never smoke.

aide: "Wake up, O esteemed leader. The sun is nigh, and we must make haste."

M: "What have you been smoking for breakfast, you idiot? Whats up with the high-elven-queen speech? Overdose of Tolkien, I guess. And why must we make haste? "

aide: "Forgive me, senor M (also known as Dr. T, praise be unto him), but, as the elders say,
there is unrest in the forest,
there is trouble in the trees;
for the maples want more sunlight,
and the oaks ignore their pleas.
"

M: "Wow!! you mustve snorted all night. I wonder why I havnet fired you already, you moron. Is my bath ready?"

aide: "Yes, sire, your bath awaits."

M: "Jeez, man. You so need to be in rehab. You're cooking your brain with that shit, I tell you."

M shakes his head and walks to the shower.
...
...

M: "THE WATER'S F***ING FREEZING!! . @#!$@!#, you ass&*!@(#!@*!@#"