I dreamed I was but three feet tall, and very cold. Everything I breathed smelled terrible, I was alone on a long bridge, over ice. It ocurred to me, in one of those rare moments of clarity, I, was a Grunt. No sooner had the thought crossed my drowsy brain, it left it. I was so dumb, my brain so tiny, I forgot I was a grunt. I continued to look, across the empty bridge, peering down awkwardly at what once must have been a river. Off in the distance, I heard a terrible sound. The lumbering giant, came towards me. He wore red blood, and blue blood. He paused, cocked his head at me, as he scanned the horizon. The terrible giant laughed as he jumped into the air, again, and again, feet barely touching the ground as the bloodied marauder leaped towards me. I turned, and ran the other way. He roared in his deep laughter, ridiculing my existence. Every several seconds I could hear his feet crunch the ground, as he caught up with me. I heard the terrible click, as a magazine was slapped into a weapon, mid jump. The giant roared, as the bullets ripped into me. I tried to keep running, in desperation. As I saw the bullets fly all the way through me, coming out my chest, I collapsed, rolling painfully on to my back, looking up at the blurred skyline, now leaving my view. His face, golden, I could see my own reflection in it. He stood, watching me die. He laughed, took the gun in one hand, and brought it down crashing on my stomach, leaving me in two pieces. He grabbed something from his waist, pulled out a small metal stick, then threw the hard metal ball at me, crushing my face. He jumped, bounding away, with his deep laughter. Then, I woke up, never seeing the detonation of the grenade ...I brushed my teeth, sat in the TV room, and started up Halo, slaying everything in my path, brutally, I may add. The irony, never struck me until much later. And that was how I spent a terrible dream, living the short life of a grunt. True story. [Edited on 11/5/2004 8:44:49 PM]