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This post comes from the founding editor‘s dream journal.

Chruck Norris is in a jungle somewhere. He’s stalking an enemy in the hot, humid underbrush until mortar rounds start to hit. Chuck begins to run. He sprints through the jungle until he stops cold. The sound of a nearby mortar is just too close. He shoulders his weapon and scales a tree. He leaps into the air as the bomb hits the earth.

Chuck is catapulted ten stories high. But he’s not hurt. He starts moving through the canopy like Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. He’s flying. From way up there he reaches the edge of the forest and sees several stone buildings off the coast on man-made islands. They’re stone buildings that look vaguely Irish, but he realizes there are Elizabethan theaters inside each one.

After sailing down to the ground, Chruck goes inside. An effeminate secretary informs the shirtless, sweating military man that there is a dress code, but that he’ll let it slide this time. Chuck goes into the back office to find a woman who also looks vaguely Irish. She’s busying herself preparing the stage lighting for her play.

When she turns to see Chuck, he asks her to go to the dance.

The night of the dance, Chuck Norris is nowhere to be found. The Irish brunette is dressed in a pale blue gown. There are ringlets in her hair. If she knows just one thing it’s that Chuck Norris is off somewhere fighting another war. But no! He enters wearing dress blacks. Everyone wants a selfie with a tuxedo-clad Chuck.


Image: Dru Bloomfield