A dream that felt unreal, it had to be nothing other then in my head - Spartan of all that seemed reality. It was then the Beer Bottle slid from between my finger tips, and shattered with some force of Kohl. It hardly pulled me from the ruins of my Slumber, as my head put back the pieces of this Surreal Dream. Scene. A run down city, full of drudgery - Though hustling with Life, nobody veered off course into someone else's Line of Schedule. It seemed as a cross of Tokyo and the Ghetto of American Society. A place not one Tourist would dare set foot in. It was here my name had set from Chanel, to Anry. I was animated by means of Computer Graphics. Big Green Anime like eyes, Dark Bronze Skin and a head full of -Big thick brown hair. I was nothing but a mere pawn. A character in this Dream, my Creator was none other then Steven King, and how hard i had tried to escape his Captive Hold over me. No matter how far i ran, he knew where i was. -He- had programmed me to do so, and Rebel i could not. I awoke now. Reality was much like this i have Concluded. In amongst the Hullabaloo of Life - Money is my Creator. Money is my Programmer. Money is my Animator. Money is my Deciding Factor. Money really is my Mesiah. I could sit and argue 'til Blue in the Face i am, about how i have no Mesiah but i. Yet i would be talking to nothing other then the wind. For you are all the same. Unfair to say ? -No. Money is the Mesiah in this Tale. Money is the Ring Bling, that drives this thing we call Life...