The first cop (let’s call him Sir Lunge-a-Lot) lunges at me in an ill-fated attempt to grab my throat. I parry his attacking arm away and slam the end of the stapler into his temple. The other cop (a.k.a. Bat Boy) hits me three times with his steel baton. He swings once at my thigh and another time at my upper arm. I don’t feel a thing and his face has that “oh shit” thing going on once he realizes what he’s up against. On his third strike, I punch him in the chest with my stapler hand and knock him on his ass. After that, I shrug off a weak tackle from a dazed Sir Lunge-a-Lot while running away, but am I wind up at a dead end with nothing but a door to an office greeting me. So I break the glass on the window of the office with my elbow and pick up a dagger-like piece of glass. Bat Boy is on my trail and pulls his gun out upon seeing me holding my new weapon.
He points the gun at my chest and screams “Drop it.” Since I don’t want to get shot and I assume the simulation is over, I drop it. “Get down on the ground! Face down!” Do that, too. Once I’m lying half naked on the ground, Bat Boy sprawls on top of me, flips me over, elbows me in the face, and flips me back on my stomach. Sort of unnecessary, but fun none the less. By that point Sir Lunge-a-Lot is back for thirds. Bat Boy cuffs me and reinforcements start piling in. After the cuffs are on I start resisting like any crazy person would and should. I wrap my legs around Sir Lunge-a-Lots right leg and begin trying to do a Joe Theismann (i.e. make his leg permanently go a way that it shouldn’t) on him. Bat Boy starts wailing on me with his baton to save his partner (Note to cops: Not a good thing to do when there are security cameras). After a few whacks I let go of his leg and come up with other ways to struggle. I tell them I’m on meth and heroin and that I murdered my roommate. One cop said I was in “deep shit” because I hit police officers and I said “Fuck da police.” He kicked me in the face for that one (Note to cops: Seriously, don’t do that when you’re on camera). My clever retort involves spitting on his boot. Another cop finally decides to be the voice of reason and says that if I calm down and tell him my name and birthday, he will get me out of this. So I tell him my real name and give him a fake birthday just to fuck with him. Seeing an end to this is a relief because 30 minutes of attacking, being attacked, and struggling is tiring even for a crazy person and/or meth addict.
The paramedics come to pick me up and that was that. There are people standing around outside by the ambulance watching me be taken away. One guy seems to be particularly interested in what is happening. Something about him standing so close to the ambulance and looking at me with his eyes. He’s wearing a brown jacket and jeans. Hopefully that narrows it down enough so one of my readers can track him down and ask him why he’s such a lookie-loo. They bring my RA(Resident Assistant), Steve, to come identify me and he has the most freaked out look I’ve ever seen anyone have. He probably wasn’t anticipating that he’d have to deal with this shit in exchange for free room and board. After Steve verifies my identity, they take me off to the hospital and onto my next adventure in the hospital.