Sweaty fingers shook around the cold metal trigger, stuttering and shuddering, struggling to maintain aim.

"S-sir, maybe it's time to put down the bottle..."

A wild eye snapped round and goggled at the owner of the gun. No bottles were being put down any time soon. The shaking resumed.

Police cruisers blocked both ends of the palm-lined street. Their windows shone in the setting sun. Liquid heat seemed to trickle through the air, mixing with the sweat and electricity.

"This is my bottle!" The clinking of metal accompanied frenzied waving of the bottle, as if to illustrate the point. "There are many like it, but this one is mine!"

Nervous faces looked to each other. This was going to be a tough one.

"In," a quick check on the timer, "in ten minutes we will all wake up and see the light! This will be our new way of life!" The bottle was offered to the sky. "We will live like glorious, sleek animals!"

"Sir, please put down the bottle."

Two figures, doubled up and used to not being seen, were stalking their way closer to the centre of attention.

"Sir, if you do not put the bottle down now, we will be forced to shoot!" 

The bottle dropped slightly, the head with it.

"Please, put down the bottle!"

A sudden, terrible crack. The bottle fell into the waiting, blood-spattered hands of the policeman. There is a sudden white light. The curtains are drawn, and the window shines in the midday sun. You have a splitting headache.

Based on a very weird, drunken dream I had.