Last night I dreamed that I was trapped in a castle, the doors blocked with thickets of bamboo. My captor gave me three days. “Find the song that was sung when you were born, and find the sword, and then you can face me.”

“Playing by the lunatic’s rules only works in movies,” I thought–sensibly–and attempted instead to dig my way out by following the pipes from the toilet–somewhat less sensibly.

After about two days of this, I realized that there was no way I was gonna get dug out by the deadline, and went looking for the song and the sword. I somehow managed to find both of these things–fortunately the sword was buried under some flagstones in the path of the sewage pipes–and manged to slay my captor after a fairly anticlimatic battle.

All of which would have been normal enough, except that I have no idea why I was being held prisoner by Willy Wonka.

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