üks // 01
A: 946 Beulah Street
[Hey, parents. One of your kids isn't what he used to be. This is probably best seen by the way he's creeping around the house with the lamp he unplugged from the nightstand in the room he woke up in, assuming this a dream or a prank, but ready with a blunt object and a fairly good swing should the place turn hostile.]
B: Phone
[He clears his throat a few times. When he talks, he sounds like he's making a summary of a science experiment. Or orally composing a blog post. Yeah, it's probably that one. If you know what a blog is. Otherwise, he just sounds a little dorky.]
With some exploring, odd conversations with the others in this house, and this party line telephone system, I've narrowed down the options of my current situation to three things. One: I'm dreaming vividly. [...] And now I'm probably talking to myself out loud. But it's alright, I'm home alone. If I am dreaming.
[There's a bit of a pause, while he worries that he didn't quite articulate that as well as he could have. But if he's right, he's the only one to hear it, so things are probably okay.]
Two: a certain friend of mine - you know who you are - has finally gotten me back for the last time he woke up in a strange situation. If that's the case, congratulations, you've won, can we stop now? This is getting creepy. Three: I've actually managed to get myself transported to... some sort of other dimension - or time, at the very least - and now is about the time I should really start to worry.
C: Mayfield High
[His drone sibling made him go to school. High school. This is ridiculous; he's been around for two thousand years and never had to go to high school before. And this place is weird, to say the least. The anti-communism sentiment in the history textbook he's browsing through is fine and all, really, but can we please stop talking about Russia? It's really starting to weird Estonia out.]
This is very messed up... [Is he talking about the high school or the weird 1950's America view on the USSR? You will never know. Unless you ask him. Feel free to.]
[Hey, parents. One of your kids isn't what he used to be. This is probably best seen by the way he's creeping around the house with the lamp he unplugged from the nightstand in the room he woke up in, assuming this a dream or a prank, but ready with a blunt object and a fairly good swing should the place turn hostile.]
B: Phone
[He clears his throat a few times. When he talks, he sounds like he's making a summary of a science experiment. Or orally composing a blog post. Yeah, it's probably that one. If you know what a blog is. Otherwise, he just sounds a little dorky.]
With some exploring, odd conversations with the others in this house, and this party line telephone system, I've narrowed down the options of my current situation to three things. One: I'm dreaming vividly. [...] And now I'm probably talking to myself out loud. But it's alright, I'm home alone. If I am dreaming.
[There's a bit of a pause, while he worries that he didn't quite articulate that as well as he could have. But if he's right, he's the only one to hear it, so things are probably okay.]
Two: a certain friend of mine - you know who you are - has finally gotten me back for the last time he woke up in a strange situation. If that's the case, congratulations, you've won, can we stop now? This is getting creepy. Three: I've actually managed to get myself transported to... some sort of other dimension - or time, at the very least - and now is about the time I should really start to worry.
C: Mayfield High
[His drone sibling made him go to school. High school. This is ridiculous; he's been around for two thousand years and never had to go to high school before. And this place is weird, to say the least. The anti-communism sentiment in the history textbook he's browsing through is fine and all, really, but can we please stop talking about Russia? It's really starting to weird Estonia out.]
This is very messed up... [Is he talking about the high school or the weird 1950's America view on the USSR? You will never know. Unless you ask him. Feel free to.]