(I know you think this could go on forever. So do I. In fact, some of my ideas specifically involved this particular section continuing for three times the required length of the actual essay. But I'm going to go easy on you, you see. I don't have the patience or the stamina to bump into any more elevator doors. My history grades alone give me pause. Here comes the good part.) So, I'm shuffling down the walkway to my car, and I'm staring at an empty spot of air three or four feet in front of my nose. I'm not watching where I'm going. I haven't a clue why my feet don't catch the cement stairs and send me sprawling with a concussion of some sort. In fact, the prospect of a fall and a concussion intrigue me. Would the teacher still make me write my paper from a hospital bed? In a coma? Forced to watch whatever coagulant mid-day television program is being viewed by the patient who beat me to the room? Just because he grabbed the remote control when there was no one else present to claim it? Then perhaps I should fall now, quickly, and get it over with? Maybe I'd beat him to the room. These are the morbid thoughts in my head, when I realize I've been brainwashed. I don't have to write this paper. I don't have to do anything you tell me to. I just think I do. I roll with this for awhile. I'm thrilled. I bounce down the steps and into the parking deck, whistling some half-remembered commercial jingle for dog food or wireless speakers or something. They thought they could make me do what they wanted! They thought it'd be so easy! Just tell him what he's supposed to believe and he'll believe it! Piece of cake! But oh ho, have I shown them up! Now they only think they've brainwashed me! I do a little dance outside my car as I find the key-- it's so chilly out this week-- and I add an extra step at the end, for triumphant measure. If I'm dancing, I might as well dance for a reason. I am victorious! I win! I have the upper hand! Now maybe I can trick them into doing what I want! All those years of parents and teachers scolding me about what's "right" and "wrong", all those scary points speeding down the interstate, right past a cop, thirty miles over the limit, all the mean looks from authority figures, all the effort I've put into being a good person. All for naught! All that time, and I never knew that I only thought they were in charge. And truly, I suppose, they were in charge. After all, I did believe them-- I was honestly scared for my life when Miss Beth washed my mouth out with Dial in preschool. I don't even remember what bad word I used� if indeed I actually used a bad word. Oh, had I but known! It's times like this I feel like hunting down Miss Beth and seeing how she likes the taste of Dial. I drive all the way home without actually remembering the process. I am deep in thought. The irony escapes me, much like the trip home: I am free from the weights and chains of my Longer Essay No. 2, and I'm still acting like a vegetable. A very pensive vegetable. Yet, I cannot stop mulling the evidence in my head. Wasn't it obvious? Why didn't I see it before? And indeed, might I be brainwashed even now? Does knowing that I was brainwashed before un-brainwash me? It is an interesting possibility. I don't feel brainwashed. If I was, I'm sure it would take another Concussion-dash-Hospital-Visit daydream to segue my acquiescent brain into another revelation. Then I'd be un-brainwashed. I nod my head, oblivious to my surroundings. Of course. That's it exactly.
When I arrive home I ponder the dents and deer fur on my front fender, but they don't seem nearly as important as my newfound situation, so I quit wondering where they came from and skip up the driveway to my front door. This means I have no homework! This means I don't have to write a paper! I can do whatever I want! I can watch TV and not even care about English class! Let them wonder why I stopped doing their bidding. Let them fret. Let them pace. See how they like it!
And then I realize something. Of course I have to write this paper. I know what'll happen if I don't. Bad grades, bad vibes, bad rep. A string of consequences awaits me if I don't live up. No one's going to go for this "brainwashing" hoopla. Especially if they're the ones who brainwashed me. They're never going to admit they did it. No one will. And there's nothing that can be done to them in punishment. I am shocked. I feel betrayed by the brain that discovered this facet of the situation. I bang my head on the screen door a few times, hoping to dislodge the whole idea, but it doesn't work. I am undone.
And I have homework to do.