Oh holy shit. I'm back at high school, surrounded by violent, moronic technophobes. But something isn't right. The sun is shining. Isn't it strange that in all my memories of high school, I can't remember a single sunny day?

I'm walking in the schoolyard. I'm too hot, so I take my shirt off. The ground under my feet has been baked into a firm mass of cracked earth, and the grass has turned yellow due to the lack of rain.

I hear a noise, and before I can register the sound something strikes out and digs a pair of sharp fangs into the flesh behind my knee. A rattlesnake.

The strange thing is, I feel it. I can physically feel the pain as the snake's fangs sink into my leg.

This is insane. There are no rattlesnakes in Scotland. If I was a Catholic, I think, I could pray to Saint Patrick. But that's no good. He was Irish. Like an Irish Santa Claus hired by Guiness.

My musings are interrupted as a second snake attacks, biting my ankle. I feel agony as its teeth scrape the bone. I sink to the ground, screaming. The world around me fades to black.

When I wake up, I don't realise that it was a dream. Am I in a hospital ward? Am I dead?

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