By Chris Vitiello
File photo
I sat in the white room. A guy came out holding a clipboard.
“A terrible battle to the death ensues between two ferocious dinosaurs,” he read. He was wearing a red tie. I had a fervent desire to whip him.
He went back in.
Then he came out again.
“The oversized gila monster will menace a small group of experienced fighters.”
“GIVE US SOMETHING TO WORK WITH!” shouted a nearby old codger. But the man just went back in again.
Then he came out.
“The stampeding dinosaurs will flee the erupting volcano.”
“I want to die,” moaned the old codger.
The man never came out again. I was never seen. I fashioned a sling out of a bedsheet and healed on my own.