I don't know what possessed me to do it, I really don't. All I know is that as I walked down the corridor of my mum's work, something caught my eye. I turned to look at it and I promise you, I saw the holy light and heard the heavenly choir sing out. My heart skipped a beat and my breath caught as I looked upon the glorious photocopy machine.
I glanced at my watch; I was ten minutes early. I had the time. As I approached the divine machine, I felt its quiet hum, its readiness to be used. I ask you, how on Earth do you resist such a pull? There was nothing I could do but search my pockets for something to photocopy. The only thing my fingers could find was a crisp five-dollar, and I lifted the top of that beautiful photocopier and placed it on the glass. The green light flashed as I closed the lid, the machine anxious to do its duty.
I raised my hand, my index finger pointing and poised over the green start button. Pausing, I relished the moment. Then I said, "Show time," and pushed the button.
Nothing more dramatic could have happened than what did. As the machine started, scanning the blue bill, alarm bells went off all around the building. I stepped back from the photocopier in surprise as it began to speak in metallic computer tones.
"Counterfeit," it said. "Alert. Counterfeit."
At that point, the ceiling, honest to goodness, the ceiling opened up. Papers whipped around the corridor and I looked up to see seven, not six, seven, SWAT choppers hovering above me, with no less than fifty SWAT officers sliding down ropes ninja-style into the building. They were dressed all in black with those crazy helmets on so they looked more like aliens from "Men in Black" than humans, minus the tentacles.
"Freeze!" they yelled, training their guns on me. I could see a whole red dot the size of my fist dancing on my chest, all of the SWAT team's lasers combined into one big mega-laser dot. At that time, I ran through my options in my head. I could calmly explain to the aliens that a five-dollar bill was honestly the only thing I had on my person to photocopy, and I simply had to photocopy something. Or I could do something incredibly stupid but would get me away from the blood-sucking creatures that were all pointing a terrifying gun at me. I think my choice was obvious.
With a Tarzan-like yell, I barrelled into the nearest officer with all my force. Surprised, it stepped back slightly, catching me. I tore myself away.
"Get your own blood!" I screamed at it, sprinting down the hallway. "You'll never get mine!" I could hear the monsters charging after me. Picking up a stapler as I ran, I chucked it at the glass case containing a fire hose. I suppose it would have been easier just to open it, but it's not everyday you get to flee from aliens. The glass shattered and I grabbed the hose. I ran to the staircase and flung the hose over the railing, hearing it thump softly on the floor below. I tied the other end to the railing, and hoping it was a good knot, swung myself over and began sliding down the hose to the main level.
Above me, the SWAT team had reached the stairwell. Throwing their own ropes down, they followed me, some staying up top. I wondered why some stayed. Then they started shooting.
I started to swing crazily on my hose, still descending quickly. Their shots missed me, one coming so close that it punctured my sleeve. I hit the floor, my knees bending to adsorb the shock. Then I was off running again, to the front doors, to freedom, to-!
To an angry mob. There they stood, the employees of Mum's office building, with pitchforks, torches and briefcases and even more SWAT officers.
"There he is!" shouted the mob. "The guy who made our productivity levels go down because he photocopied a five-dollar bill!" The mob surged forward, shaking their briefcases threataningly. I caught a glimpse of my mother in the crowd, looking livid.
"Jeremy Falconer, you are in so much trouble!" she yelled at me. "You are grounded, young man, and-"
"Later Mum!" I yelled back. "Right now I've got to save myself by climbing a ridiculously high office building instead of calmly and sensibly explaining the situation." I swung my backpack off my shoulders and dug through it, bringing out two frosted muffins Mum had made me.
"Are you insane?!" Mum simply screeched. "You'll kill yourself!"
I coolly regarded her.
"Not insane," I said. "Literate."
"WHAT?!" Mum screamed, but I simply turned and placed the two muffins on the side of the building.
You see, my mum's muffins are extremely gooey and sticky. As if she used liquid glue instead if flour. So when I placed those muffins on that building, they stuck. I began to climb, placing one muffin in front of the other, leaving a white-frosting imprint on the building and the occasional rainbow sprinkle.
"Good thing I wore my grippy, rubber shoes today," I said to myself.
Up I went, the roar of the angry mob dying with each muffin movement. Finally, I heaved myself up onto the roof of the building, the wind stronger up here. I wiped the muffin good from my hands onto my pants, or at least, I tried to, and then looked up to be eye-to-eye with a clan of warrior beavers, clad in chain mail and everything. We stood looking at each other for a moment, the muffin good beginning to dry on my hands.
"Jeremy," the biggest beaver eventually said. "Je suis ton père." I gasped, my eyes wide.
"NOOOOOOON!" I cried, pulling my 10-inch yew wand from my backpack. The beavers pulled out light-sabres and we began to battle on top of my mother's office building.
I quickly threw up a shielding spell to protect me as I rooted around in my backpack. The beavers charged at me, attacking the orange and purple bubble that encased me. I could see my spell weakening under the pressure the beavers put on it and I dug more frantically.
"Come on, come on," I said. "Where is it? Aha!" I triumphantly pulled out my collapsible hang-glider and I was soaring away from the building just as they broke though my spell. No sooner was I above the angry mob, still shaking their briefcases, than the SWAT choppers began chasing me.
"Oh man," I said to myself, and turned on the turbo-jet engines on my hang-glider. I shot through the sky, twisting to avoid the bullets they fired at me. Finally, I flew through a particularly dense cloud and lost the choppers somewhere over the Indian Ocean. I could just see them shaking their fists at me in anger! I banked and made my way back over the Atlantic Ocean home.
I touched down on my porch in my peaceful little neighbourhood. I plugged my hang-glider into the house to let it charge and steeled myself to face the wrath of my mother.
But really, all in all it hadn't been a bad day.