I Was Going About My Awful Lawful Business

I was going about my awful lawful business – I mean my awful unlawful business – and then didn’t Mr Copper McBobby McPlod the Plodding Robot Policeman show up on the scene with his blue blight flashing on his head. You’re under arrest he said. You’re illegal he roared through his megaphone you’re exceeding the dream limit you’ll get points for that you know. You had too much to dream last night and now you’re over the limit. I had run into trouble with the Dream Police and now they had my number. They were going to revoke my licence. They were going to cancel my dream. I was adrift in the Dreamscape and everything was going according to plan. Events came and passed and no one could remember them. Least of all me. I was in the Dreaming City but I was only passing through on my way to somewhere else. I was in a bit of a hurry – I didn’t want to get caught with my fingers in the till. I had too many fingers in too many pies and now my chickens were all coming home to roost. I was dodging this way and that. It wasn’t me your honour I called out in a muffled voice from under the table. He made me do it. It was Mr McPlod the Policeman’s dream not mine he was dreaming everything I did. It was a notarized dream-crime and everything was going to plan. The solicitor was standing there beside me with a big shit-licking smile on his face. Like the dirty slimy no-good bastard he was. The dream police were everywhere everyone you meet is a narc they’ll grass you up the dirty bastards they’ll grass you up for sure. You have to get to them before they can get to you. It was entrapment your honour I called out to the Presiding AI. He had lasers for eyes that recorded everything. His head spun round and round. He made me do it I yelled indignantly he dreamt the whole thing up you’re a dreamer you’re a schemer you’re a Ring-Tailed Lemur he got me bang to rights caught in possession of a banned Dream Substance – Substance D to those in the know – and it was an open and closed case. I was on trial as usual and the excuses were dripping off my tongue like custard. The system is a fraud your honour I began but he cut me off with a single ominous look. My insides turned to jelly, my excuses congealed in my throat in a solid sticky lump like dead man’s phlegm. I choked silently. I was in the Halls of the Dead and the Executive Furies of the Robot Lord of Death were waiting to lead me off to my fate. They couldn’t wait to fulfill their duty. They weren’t well-known for their sense of humour. The excuses were dripping slowly off my tongue like cold custard and making a mess on the floor. Somewhere in the distance I could hear my heart beating…




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