Trees Hate You

I’m not exactly an afternoon snoozer. I haven’t taken a nap since I was probably six years old.
So, of course, it’s no surprise to anyone that the first time I take a nap in ten years, some crazy stuff went down. For example, when I woke up, I was in semidarkness in the back of a moving vehicle.
Not only was this confusing enough, but only my feet were tied up using the shoelaces from my own shoes.
Naturally, I quickly untied my feet and began yelling for some explanation. I felt around me to take stock of my surroundings.
I was in an extremely large cage in either the back of a large moving van or large semi. I could make out this bulky object blocking the door to the cage, trapping me inside. I tried shoving it out of the way, to no avail. I continued shouting for help, hoping someone would hear me. I was a confused mess.
After what might have been an hour, I finally gave up and lied down in the corner of my cage. Frightened tears welled up in my eyes. My quivering hand shoved my bangs out of my face.
In the silence of my defeat, I began to hear a faint ticking noise.
Tick tick tick.
I slowly pulled myself up to a sitting position and crawled to the edge of my cage, trying to see into the dark corner the ticking was coming from.
Tick tick tick.
It sounded much more ominous than a clock.
Tick tick tick.
I put my feet against the edge of the weirdly shaped object that was blocking the door and tried pushing it away. It moved a few inches and I hissed an excited “Yes!” I was doing a little celebration dance when I suddenly heard a huge thud coming from near the giant object.
I let out a little shriek and crawled to the farthest corner in my cage.
Heart pounding, I whispered, “Hello?”
“Shit,” was the only response I got, excluding a painful groan.
“Hello?” I said a little louder.
“Huh? Who’s there?! Is this someone’s idea of a joke? Because, let me just say, you’re doing it wrong!” The voice yelled.
“Um…” was my witty response.
“Yeah, okay, first of all, this porta-potty is cleaner than my house. And my house is nonexistent, so that’s saying something. If you’re gonna prank someone, at least do it right. Not that I’m complaining…” The voice continued to ramble.
“You’re in a porta-potty?!” There goes another one of my clever responses. I crawled back to the door of my cage. I guess that object in front of the entrance did look suspiciously like a porta-potty.
“No shit. Ha! Get it? Because, literally, there’s no shit in here.”
I forehead slapped myself. “Listen, I don’t know what happened to you, but one moment I was taken my first afternoon nap in years,” this was something I seemed to be stressing a lot, “and the next I’m in a cage blocked by a guy in a porta-potty in the back of some creepy van. Oh, yeah, and my feet were tied up using my shoelaces!”
“This isn’t a joke, bro?”
“Oh, no, it totally is. I was completely kidding around.” I said with only the tiniest hints of sarcasm.
“Yeah, well, I’m locked in a porta-potty, so I can’t be much help.” I heard him moving around a bit.
“If you could please just sort of knock your stall down, so I can get out of this cage, I could probably assist you.” I tapped on the porta-potty for effect.
Another groan. “I ain’t gonna like this.”
There was movement from inside the stall, and I could make out the shape of the stall beginning to move- next came the loud crash as it toppled over and more pained groans from the occupant inside.
I could now manage to open the door to the cage a little more than a foot wide and squeezed out.
I cautiously moved over to the porta-potty, which had fallen so that- of course- the door was face down. With the help of the gentleman inside, I managed to flip it over.
I threw open the door to the stall and held my hand out for assistance. The guy inside pushed it aside and crawled out.
“Aw, shit.” He repeated. I rolled my eyes and went to investigate what was making that mysterious ticking noise in the corner.
Before I reached the corner of the truck though, it stopped and both Mr. Mysterious Man and I fell over.
He began to say something, but I shushed him. I could hear people getting out and yelling. After a few minutes, it was eerily quiet.
“Can I talk again?” He muttered, mostly to himself.
“Listen, you…” I turned around to face him. I found myself staring at a just-stand-there-so-I-can-look-at-you type of fellow. He had black, styled hair. Though it was extremely dark, he was wearing a pair of hipster sunglasses. He also had some stubble on his chin. At that moment, he was fiddling with his hobo gloves.
This was one hunky hobo.
“Uh…” I finished. I turned back around; focusing on discovering what was in the corner.
Tick tick tick. It seemed as if the ticking was growing louder.
“What is that?” The hunky hobo asked, about as confused as I was.
“That’s what I’m about to find out.” I crawled the rest of the way to the corner and gasped audibly as I looked down.
“What?!” He ran over to my side and gasped too.
For, in the corner of the back of the truck we were locked in, was a bomb. This bomb was at 4: 32 and counting down.
“Aw, shit,” He muttered again.
I stared at it, dumbfounded. Yet the only thought that popped into my mind was: This is why I don’t take naps.
“What do we do?!” The hobo man began freaking out, searching the back of the semi for anything we could use.
I, however, was calm, cool, and collected. It was probably just the shock.
I reached down to readjust my socks, which had been bothering me for quite some time. However, yet another surprise was waiting for me. A small dagger was tucked in my sock. It was no wonder it was so uncomfortable.
I pulled it out and held it up. The pointy blade was about the length of my hand. The hilt was blood red.
“Could this help any?” I held up the blade to the hobo. He studied it, not questioning where I got it from.
“Probably. How? Hell if I know,” He ran to the back of the semi (I was pretty sure it wasn’t a large moving van) and studied it carefully. I walked over and joined him, not seeing any way my newfound dagger could prove useful.
“I don’t suppose you know how to diffuse a bomb,” I said, attempting to relieve some of the tension.
“Not this kind,” the hobo replied, completely serious. I turned to stare at him but ended up just shrugging. Mysterious hobos.
“We could stab this dagger into it and hope it doesn’t explode,” I suggested, looking at the timer. It now was at 1:36.
Without saying another word, he grabbed the dagger from my hand and dramatically stabbed it into the bomb. I was too stunned to yell that I was just kidding.
The bomb made a strange noise and stopped ticking. It also didn’t explode.
The door slide slightly open and I ran over to push it the rest of the way. Sunshine poured into the back of the semi, and we stepped out into the middle of a completely empty desert. I squinted at the sun. That was some nap. I fell asleep on my couch in Washington, and I wake up in the middle of a desert in God-knows-where.
The hobo man stepped out of the back of the semi, adjusting his sunglasses.
In a movie, he would have pulled me into his arms. A majestic horse would have appeared, and we would jump on it, riding off towards the setting sun. However, this was not a movie. This was my life. So, of course, this hunky man just patted my head and said, “Good job, kid.”
There was a loud explosion and a fire started inside of the semi, scaring me half to death.
I plopped down on the ground while the hobo walked off, muttering about how this would be a nice place to live.
I knew two things.
One, I was never taking another nap again. Maybe.
Two, I hated movies with their lies about how whenever someone goes on an adventure; they’re bound to find some romance no matter what. I went through a stinking awesome adventure and still ended up alone.

Forever alone. ;_;