The Confession

The short grumpy officer with his balding head slammed the door as he left the room. I had five minutes to sign the confession or things would get ugly, he said. But the words on paper made no sense. "Willful non-compliance with sections 5a, 7b-c, and addendum 9 of inter-galactic non-locality law blah blah blah... violation of the standards of space-time continuum for purposes of criminal mischief and negligent endangerment of consensual contracts with reality." This must be another dream; it was so hard to tell the difference anymore. Was this the dream police? Do such things exist?

"Why do you ask?" A gnome in the corner said nonchalantly.

Oh god, this really is a dream. Not only can he not exist, but he can read thoughts?

"That kind of attitude young lady is exactly why you are in this mess." He said.

"What do you mean?"

"You think you can just go around deciding whether something is a dream or not? What's real and what's not? Bosh! What arrogance!" The tiny worked-up gnome spat on the floor and ground it in with his foot like it was a cigarette. He hopped up on the table and bent down (not very far, but he appeared to be nearsighted) to look at the confession.

"Ohhh, you are so in trouble this time Serl."

"I'm afraid he's right" said another voice. A white mouse this time on the other side of the table. "You'll need a lawyer. Seymour Amore at your service ma'am." He stood up on two legs and made a small bow. Brushing his whiskers thoughtfully with one paw, he continued.

"Now let me read this thing."

The white mouse sidled up beside the gnome and they both read the document muttering and shaking their heads the whole time. The mouse finally spoke.

"So you have a history then of fabricating things in public, essentially causing people to tangibly experience things that aren't ordinarily part of the realities they sign up for, is that it?"

"You mean, like a surly gnome and a mouse that went to law school?"

The gnome rolled his eyes. "She really is delusional" he said to the mouse.

"Quite so" the mouse replied. "But I think I see a loophole."

Just at that moment the door opened and officer grumpy-balding guy marched in the room with another guy in a suit and graying hair. The gnome and mouse simply melted into nothingness. The officer snatched the document and waved it in the suit's face. Conspicuously missing the signature on the fat black line at the bottom.

"Not only has she not signed it," he spat, "she's altered the document!"

The suit smoothed his white mustache with his fingers thoughtfully as he examined the document. "Well, we can't hold her on this now, even if she did sign it, there's no law against 'making up stories for blogs.'"

And it appears that I am now free to go. Criminal mischief indeed!