So we’re in a hotel room or something. You, someone else, and myself are on the fifth floor. The room has a big glass window which is swung open. You stand with your back facing it and gesture as if you would fall out as a joke, smiling. I say that it would be pretty funny if you were to jump out, and that since we’re only five floors up you wouldn’t get hurt so bad. So you jump backwards out the window. I look down and see you fall onto a dude on roller blades. You come running in the door of the room we’re in, frazzled. You look a little beat, scraped up a bit. You tell me you have to fight the guy. You broke off his mohawk. I’m confused as to why you came upstairs if you’re going back down to fight him. I get the impression you don’t want to fight him but feel like you have to because he wants to. He appears in the room, looking annoyed. He’s huge, super tall and fat. No mohowk, no roller blades. He’s waiting for you to get ready. You take a shower and put on a new set of clothes, including a nice yellow button up shirt. The end.