I am getting married.
Nothing strikes me as wrong for this statement, it's widely accepted that as young as I may be, I have the option to marry whenever I want, to whomever I want. I announce to my dad and he says that we'll just have to take me down to the marriage yard. The point is, I am lying. No one even asked me to marry them. I'm a man short of the whole operation.
My dad gets me in his car and he drives me out to a junk yard. I walk around and I meet these twenty-year-old women, mostly minorities, with children. Completely torn apart by poverty, and imagine, they feel sorry for me! I tell them my husband is definitely the greatest of all men; I draw a mental picture of him and he looks like my conceptual image of Isaac Newton. Three women approach me and ask me for my papers. I look down at theirs and I see questions like, "What is the goal of your marriage?" "How many times have you (!!!)" (no, it was really written like that), "Are you going to open a store at the mall called Brides for Brooms? If not, we are!"
I hitched a ride back home with some of my stepsister's friends and everyone was eager to meet my husband, so I called up my old science teacher, and introduced them to him. The dream ended on a sour note that I won't describe here, but I am still sick from it.