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Bubble wrap, it calms me down when I am really nervous. The popping sound seams so comforting. Like a muffled gun going off in my hands, as many rounds as I want to blow off. Ah, it is so soothing, i feel my eyes rolling back into my head, getting sleepy...so sleepy.

Awakened but a shot, that was not bubble wrap. I jump out of my bed, but this is not my bed. I am in a jungle, I have a gun. What the Hell, must still be dreaming. I grasp the rifle in my hands, it is cold. I shoulder it, may as well enjoy the dream. Scanning the jungle I wait for movement, sweat is pouring down my face, God it is hot. There in the distance, movement in the bush. I lightly bring my finger to the trigger. This is a very intense dream, I thought smiling.

The figure came running at me. I shot...bubble wrap. The popping of bubble wrap in my ears. I look down and there it is, my sheet of bubble wrap in my hands. I laugh, I laugh till I can't breathe. I must have been exhausted, I look over to the clock to see it is 8 am. I am late for work. Gotta move, I drop my friend Mr Bubbles and dress. Within 5 minutes I am ready to go. I grab my briefcase and stop. I can see the bubble wrap on my bed, it is all alone. I walk into the bedroom and pick it up, stuff it into my briefcase and head for the door.

On the bus, I see faces staring at nothing. People with lives as boring as my own. We are like rats, moving from one maze to another, always looking for the cheese. I bring my briefcase to my lap, and open it just a crack. I slide my hand into it wanting to feel Mr Bubbles. What I feel is hard and cold. Metal against my hand. I open the case a bit more and see the gun, polished silver in my hand. It is beautiful, how did it get there. I look around at the passengers, all of them oblivious to my new find. I could shoot them all and no one would pay attention. No, silly thoughts, I close my case and continue to work.

In my cubicle I open my case. Bubble Wrap, I giggle quietly. Losing it, dreaming while awake. I pop a few, the sound is soothing. I imagine myself with that gun, standing in my cubicle randomly firing off shots at my co-workers. I know they hate me, I hate them. They look at me with jealousy in their eyes. They know I am special, I have what it takes. My wife new it, she left me because of it. She could not handle being with someone so superior to her. She took the kids, didn't want them trying to grow up in my shadow. That must have been why.

I sit down, my hand clutching my true friend.

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