A few months back, I kinda fell into a coma. I really don’t know why. But what really killed me was that the doctors didn’t, either—they just kept running around, shouting and running tests. Do you have any idea how funny it is to see doctors go from being cold and robotic and stuff to a panic? I never got that, either. Why would anyone trust a crummy, emotionless weirdo with their life? I wouldn’t. They’re even worse than the stupid kids at school. At least they don’t walk around in phony coats with phony certificates hanging all over their rooms like they’re the big cheese. Why would anyone want to be the “big cheese,” anyway? I wouldn’t. Especially if it’s blue cheese; that stuff smells awful.

Anyway, I kinda fell into a coma, but I never knew I did. I just remember closing my eyes a little—all the phony doctors and nurses were giving me a headache—and opening them to see this really weird field or something. But it was so weird; the grass was replaced with this creepy and slimy and bright white plant stuff, and none of the trees even had leaves. They kinda had limp, crummy, disgusting yellow seaweed stuff hanging from blinding red branches. And the branches weren’t even normal, either! They just sorta hung parallel to the ground. I’m not gonna lie; I think I fainted for a second or something, ‘cos the next second there was this thing looking at me with huge and slimy snake—snake!—eyes. And its shape and skin were even worse: Its back was all twisted and disgusting, and its elbows and knees turned out in the wrong directions, and its skin was a lousy blue-grey color with a buncha stitches in it everywhere. I’m not gonna lie—the stitches actually looked pretty cool. But its nose was all squashed up into its forehead and the mouth was all off-center. Whatever it was had really crummy hair, too; it was a dull yellow color and was all shiny and stuck to its head really bad. Oh, and it was poking me with one of its two stumpy fingers, which felt like a dead fish or something. Not that I’ve ever touched a dead fish—sure, my goldfish died when I was like six, but I never touched it after that. I’m not a sicko. Boy, if you’re molesting fish after they die, you really have a problem. Really.

But then the whatever-it-was opened its mouth—it took up the half of its face its eyes didn’t, I swear—and said something. Man, its breath was one of the worse things I’ve ever smelt. And that’s pretty bad, I’ve gotta tell you. I swear, it’s like I live in skunk-country or something. Anyway, it had this gross and bumpy and green tongue with a buncha jagged black teeth that really needed to see some sort of dentist. Well, maybe not see, but you know what I mean. So it said something, but it just sounded like it was trying to throw up or something. Maybe that’s how they greet each other or something? It was just so phony, though. I mean, a disgusting monster with a disgusting voice? Oh, that’s just so original. I still want to punch something. If monsters are phony, how much of a chance do normal people have of becoming interesting? None, that’s what.

So then the weird thing took out this nasty rope and kinda tied my hands together and started dragging me someplace or something. It all depressed me. Disgusting monsters with disgusting voices with disgusting ropes and stupidity. It was all so phony. And the stupid path it was dragging me on was all grown-over and stuff, which was even worse. How stupid do you have to be to let a buncha plants and stuff grow over a trail you need to use?

So the thing dragged me on for a while, when all of a sudden there was this screech or something. It was really painful—and trust me, I know painful noises. My kid sister is learning to play the violin. You don’t know pain till you’re stuck with an enthusiastic eight-year-old with the instrument from Hell. Not that she’s a bad kid; she’s one of the smartest kids you’ll ever meet. Really.

Anyway, this screech killed my ears and the thing leading me began to pull me faster. And then I saw one of the craziest things I’ve ever seen. There was a buncha humans—at least, they looked more human than whatever had me by the wrists—in some lousy clothes being herded to more of the monster things. The monsters would hold down each person and just start swiping with these huge knives. You wouldn’t believe how much gore and gross bits there were. The entire field was drenched in blood, and there were huge stacks of bodies in one corner. But that wasn’t the worst part; the monster things were eating them. It was like a buffet or something—like the ones you find in those really high-class hotels that actually are filled with nothing but phonies. It might’ve killed me if I saw a movie or something with it, but this just made me feel lousy, y’know? Really lousy.

And-and then there was this little girl and she was screaming and crying and a woman kept trying to help her and she couldn’t do anything. And then the girl turned and she had long brown hair and the knife was coming down and I was being pulled forward in line and she was crying and she looked exactly like Kaya—

And I woke up. In the hospital. My eyes were all puffy and swollen and teary, but it was all gone. I mean, it was a really crummy and depressing and lousy place and stuff, but it just stopped. Just like that. I didn’t even have time to do anything. How depressing is that? And when my parents and everybody got there, they didn’t believe me. Not even when I started getting nasty purple bruises on my wrists. Bruises. But they all just said I probably got them caught in the sheets or on equipment or something. And then they thought I tried to do something stupid like kill myself or something, so they set me up to see some phony shrink with even phonier certificates than the other doctors and that stupid chair they always make you sit in before killing you with questions. And they aren’t even good questions. They’re always something like “How does that make you feel?” and “Have you had any strange dreams?” Like those’ll help anyone.

She’s the one who had the idea to make me write a crummy journal about it all. It’s not like it’s going to help or anything. I mean, I’ve told her this stupid story every time I’ve seen her, but she always gives me this phony smile and tells me to stop lying. Sure, I know I have a lying problem, but I wouldn’t lie about something like this. But whatever. They can believe what they want to believe; it’s not like I care what they think of me. I just hope I can get out of here in time to see Kaya’s play. She told me she’s got the main part, and she’s going to knock out ‘em all out. She’s just that kind of kid.