So, yeah....
So I had this dream this morning that I was back in high school. David Spade was one of my classmates. I also wound up being a pokemon trainer, as it was very big in that school. Our specialty was (apparently) fighting hot sandwiches.
Me, I specialized in patty melts. I spent hours going through the school, having conversations with all the patty melts, trying to evaluate their level of fighting spirit. I was particularly effective at this, compared to my classmates, as I was the only one who could speak patty melt. Some sort of Doctor Dolittle thing, I don't even.
So, eventually, I found one with the right spirit, and we trained together (I think that there may have been a montage), and the day of the big competition showed up. As I was getting my fighting sandwich prepared with a last-minute conditioning round of training, Spade showed up and shoved me and my sandwich into a storage room with a sturdy door and locked us in.
I tried the door several times, and couldn't do anything. So I got clever. The door was set back in the room a little, so there were walls... sort of around the corner on each side of it. I went around to this side, and knocked a little bit to find the steel framing studs, and them smashed my way through the drywall between them, my faithful sandwich hot on my heels. I got out behind Spade, and knocked him flying with one punch (of course: it's my dream) as my patty melt chased his tuna melt down the hall.
Then the alarm went off.
I'm not eating hot tapioca pudding right before bedtime ever again. But at least I got to punch out David Spade.