^{I was dreaming last night, and after seeing a dentist in the morning, I started writing. Here's what came of it:}

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The Chase

The rockets were flying in from everywhere. I ran and jumped around like a jackrabbit, trying to evade them as they blew up. Down the road I saw a shopping mall. “If I could only make it there...”

Two rockets blasted into the pavement as I sprinted toward the mall entrance. I could practically taste the fumes. Just as I reached the doors, I spotted two masked figures on the rooftop — grenade launchers in hand, locked on me.

“Damn,” I muttered under my breath, “I knew I should’ve filed those taxes properly.”

I threw myself inside, crashing through a display of discount toothbrushes. If this was how I was going to go, at least my dental hygiene would be flawless.

Then, it hit me. I needed to pick up my daughter. Wait… daughter? I don’t have a daughter.

As I was running through the mall, I realized I need to get out fast, but how? I don't have a car, I left it home, decided to take the trip on foot. “I need a car, now!”

On the other side of the mall, there was parked a pearl green VW Kleinbus right in front of the doors. “Oh wow! It's a cabriolet! Easy to snatch. I hope the owner won't mind.”

As I hopped on and started to tinker with the wires, I heard loud bangs. “Oh shit they are on to me again!” Quickly, I started the car, and pushed the pedal to the metal. The speed the car took off was phenomenal. It was like Tesla had their hands in sprucing up the little van. The only problem now was I could hardly see anything, as the wind dried up my eyes and they started to water up. “What the hell there's no windscreen?”

After some confusion, I found a button that had a weird logo on it, it looked like a cloud, or a balloon rising. I pushed it.

With a soft whir, the windshield began to rise — but it wasn’t a normal one. No, this thing looked like a Supersport Aeroscreen straight off a Morgan, only it slid up like motorized side windows. It locked into place with a crisp click, right in my line of sight.

“Great,” I grumbled, trying to steer around corners while peeking under the rising glass. It was of no particular help. The van zoomed through the streets like it was made of jet fuel, and I was barely hanging on, my eyes still watering from the wind assault.

Out of nowhere, it hit me again — I still had to pick up my daughter. Wait... what daughter? I had no time to think about it, though, as I whipped the Kleinbus around a corner and screeched the Kleinbus to a halt, tires kicking up dust.

As I glanced around, a wave of nostalgia hit me like a freight train. I wasn’t just anywhere — these were the terrace houses from my childhood. The familiar walls, covered in small white rocks embedded into the concrete, shimmered faintly in the sunlight. Beyond the houses, the field stretched out as it always had, with the dense spruce forest framing the horizon.

My feelings of nostalgia were however cut short.

“Hurry dad!” Yelled the girl with blonde hair in a strawberry dress, with an alluringly familiar voice, pulling memories I quite couldn't place. “We can still make it!” pointing at the dirtbike in the yard, holding a helmet for me. “Nice van, where'd ya get it?”

As we rode the bike through the forest towards the ring road that splits the industrial area, I was constantly looking over my shoulder for the enemy. The terrorists? Gone. The chase? Over.

After crossing the ring road, I felt relieved. This was the life — a father and a daughter (?), on a bike, on our way to... a Pizza House?

We were quickly approaching a huge building with a gigantic sign: Pizza Forever!.

I was flabbergasted. Did we have something like this, here? My confusion and hesitation grew, as I remembered what I'd been fleeing from. "But the taxes..."

“Pizza first,” she said calmly, pointing at the entrance. And so, we went inside.

The smell of pizza hit me immediately, but it wasn’t comforting, it made me feel... weird. Something was off.

Ordering the pizzas was also a small battle, but what we actually ordered didn't cross my mind, as my mind, it had taken a detour.

I was looking at the glass counter, where the many pizza slices were lined up, and saw the crow. Huge. Black. And it was eyeballing right at me from between the pizzas. It didn’t move. It didn’t blink.

“What the hell?” I muttered, squinting at it. “Why is it sitting like that? Like it’s glued to the table...”

As we sat down to eat, the crow still stared at me from between the pizza slices. I tried to ignore it, but my mind couldn’t shake the weirdness.

“What’s up with that crow?” I muttered to my daughter, who didn’t seem the least bit bothered.

“Oh, that’s Carl. He’s here to help you with your taxes.”

The crow blinked for the first time, and I nearly dropped my slice.