Ordinarily, this would be the room with the

Ordinarily, this would be the room with the decontamination gel, but for some reason the room was dry. The lighting was wrong. I notice that my running bra is tighter than it was.

My skin started to itch. I had a metallic taste in my mouth. The observation light came on. I wasn't in the decontamination room, I was in the "contaminated cell."

I knew the cell was contaminated. The walls were covered in cysts and ulcers. The floor was burning my feet. "My God, it has a fever," I concluded as the ceiling sneezed on

me. I grimaced in disgust, but the digestive enzymes of the organic prison cell were of more immediate concern to me. I pulled myself off the undulating floor by the bone bars,

dropped trou and just pissed on the fell creature. The results were immediate, no matter how contrary, no matter how malign, piss is piss and I let the bastard have it.

The creature screamed and looked up at me. It said "My God! Is that piss?! It is! That's piss!" I just laughed and said "No no, it's merely raining" then zipped up.

, catching myself in my fly. Ironically, that's when the DJ started playing Tone Loc's "Wild Thing"! Which even more ironically masked my screams as I jumped up and down.

After eyeing me for five full minutes the hot punk chick in the nearest booth grabbed my elbow and yelled something. I was too much agony to hear. She winked and the light fitting

jacket she was wearing fell open to reveal a hairy chest and her weapon. Her voice suddenly deepened as "she" whispered in my ear, "Secret Service, get down NOW!" I painfully

kneeled on my knee that was recovering from knee replacement surgery and thought about suing the secret service for compensation. The SS lawyers lost and a hit the jackpot.