MY PERSONAL TERROR: THE DAY THE CD ARRIVED

I walked out the front door of my house this afternoon to get my mail. I noticed a black van with dark tinted windows across the street. I couldn't tell how many people were inside the van, but they were watching me.

When I open my mailbox I found a small packaged address to me. One side was colored blue and grey and on the other side of the package was a picture of a happy family with the text "Shouldn't you have the right to decide?"

I could feel a CD inside this package.

I looked up and notice my picture was being taken by the driver of the van.

I quickly put the package in my jacket and scurried into my house, leaving my Pottery Barn catalogue alone in the mailbox for another day.

I locked the door behind me and set my security alarm. I was safe again. Or was I?

I looked out my window and to my surprise, the black van across the street was now gone. Where did they go?

With my laptop in hand I ran to my basement, knocking over the house of cards I had spent last evening building.

I hid inside a fort I made out of couch cushions. This was my Fortress of Solitude. We learn as kids that forts made of couch cushions are indestructible and impenetrable.

I had previously installed a day’s supply of orange soda inside my couch to keep me hydrated during times of crisis. I would need it today.

I open the package, but was encumbered by bright yellow note pasted to the bottom panel.

No Privacy Policy

The information you provide us when answering questions and viewing in this web enabled CD will be sold and used for commercial purposes. You have no choice.

My body began to shake with terror. The CD I had been told to fear was in my house.

I had brought the Republican Party of Minnesota’s secret information gathering device into my suburban home.

It was useless to scream for help; nobody could hear my voice through the thick walls of my fort.

I was trapped, a prisoner of my own construction.

Acting with a total disregard for my own safety or that of my neighbors, I decided to put the CD into my computer.

I began to hear the CD turning, but this sound was soon lost to the deafening sound of a helicopter over my house.

Knowing the sound of government helicopters, I knew this was a black helicopter hovering above my house waiting for the CD to starting transmitting my secret information.

Foolishly, after agreeing to terms of use, I started answering the questions.

My mind was racing, my heart was pounding. I was afraid the sweat pouring from forehead would cause my computer to short out.

I had drawn up plans to install an air-conditioner in my fort, but I had spent too much time watching the Olympics. Damn you Apollo Ono!

The only way I thought I could get out of this mess was to complete the questionnaire. Upon pressing the final key, I heard the helicopters leaving.

Their mission was a success. The Republican Party of Minnesota had gathered my secret information and the helicopter raced off with lightning speed to speed to the next house on their list.

Like Santa Claus on the night before Christmas, numerous houses would methodically be visited. But no gifts would be left behind on this day.

Only hours later I was able to leave my fort. After spending time with my Brooks Brother ties, I am now calm enough to communicate my personal terror.