So I'm back in middle school. I'm eating lunch, minding my own middle school business, when R. Lee Ermey walks up to me. Apparently he's an administrator or something. He starts working me over verbally, trying to make me sweat. I play it cool as a cuccumber. He gets mad at my devil-may-care attitude, and starts throwing insulting innuendos at me.
The things he's saying make it sound like I spend my lunch break masturbating in the boys' bathroom. He doesn't say this, of course, because of harassment rules and such, but he figures if he can just IMPLY then everyone else will get the picture and that the laughter of my peers will cut into me like the jagged lid of a rusty tin can. Again, I shrug off his words and simply reverse them on him.
"I'm sorry, I don't quite understand what you're trying to imply. I'm not very smart, apparently. Could you please put it more simply?" I ask him. This is when he starts sweating.
See, a middle school lunchroom monitor can't very well say "You must jerk off in the bathroom stalls during lunch," now can he? Ermey starts to squirm now, throwing more metaphors and innuendo out there. My peers are deadly quiet, most likely enjoying this bizarre battle of the wits where the young, physically impotent boy has the upper hand over the towering, ominous authority figure. Ermey starts running out of subtle quips, but he can't just give up. That'd be a sign of weakness, and any sign of weakness will ruin him.
He finally cries "YOU PULL YOUR PECKER IN THE BATHROOM!" He must have reverted to his days as a drill sergeant.
I grin, chuckling quietly, so that only those sitting on either side of me can hear. "Oh, sir, you're terribly mis-informed. Let me show you something."
I lead him and any fellow-student who cares to see to the boys' bathroom. It's crowded, but not packed. The stalls, if the can be called "stalls" and not "four pieces of wood barely held in place by screws", offer little privacy. I tell him all of this, pointing out that if I were to, as he put it, "pull my pecker" in there, there'd be no privacy for me to do so.
Having cleared my good name, I walk outside of the bathroom, where the other administrators are standing, looking very alarmed. I turn to Ermey and suddenly I'm a twenty-something again. "As for your allogations that I masturbate in the bathroom, I find them to be sexual harassment, and the school will be hearing from my lawyer." I make sure the principal hears my words. Judging from the sweat running down his face I know he does.
My classmates stand around me, amazed that I've stood up to the most feared cafeteria monitor of all time without once seeming scared.
I can't remember the rest of the dream anymore, because I waited too long to write it down, but it was pretty sweet.