It was 5:35, of the A.M. variety. My back was aching, my mind was recoiling from its recent slumber, and the Catalan people were crying out against their oppressors. Their shrieks rang like a telephone, reverberating against the walls of my lofty hotel room. As they stood under the malevolent watch of President Spain, I stood under the watchful eye of the Chicago skyline, and it was then that I had a vision.

A thousand lizards baked under the hot sun of the Catalonian desert. One thousand, two thousand, three thousand more; I stood and counted these reptiles one by one, and balked in horror when the action was completed. For every citizen living in Catalonia, there was a lizard here in the desert; not one more, and not one less. With the people themselves nowhere to be found, I realized that they had become the creatures that now crawled before me.

This was the future of Catalonia under Spain. Images of President Spain in a lab coat flooded my eyes, and I watched as he danced about the Catalonian streets, injecting reptile DNA into every living soul. He laughed, he cackled, I lack hold of power. I wither alone as Spain marks the hour.

The fate of a civilization has been foretold. In my hotel room, I saw that day: the day of reckoning. The day of Spain’s reign. I watched the reptilian bourgeoisie sweep through the lands, and I know now that to prevent this tragedy, Spain must grant Catalonia its independence.

– RM