A day in the life of a paranoier

Jonathan Lee, assistant opinions editor

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“BRRRNNGG! BRRRNNGG!” I wake up to the terrible noise that my phone makes. I quickly turn the alarm off my phone and ask myself why I’m up so freakin’ early. Then to the right of my phone, I see my Nerf gun: my baby, my love, my everything. All of the pain and aching from the early morning goes away, knowing that I’ve volunteered to go to one of the opponent’s house for the kill.

If you have been living under a rock, or you’re an underclassmen, it’s Paranoia season. Sixty-four teams have come together to participate in the annual Paranoia competition, where players face off new teams every week in hopes to make it to playoffs and be the last team standing.

It’s now Saturday, and week two of the tournament. I’ve been able to stay alive, and now I am one of two remaining on my team. All I have to do is attempt to go for a kill, but if it does become dangerous, fleeing will still give us the win. I get dressed in the normal Paranoia season apparel: black on black. I head for the shower, while clutching on to my gun knowing that in this time of desperation, anything can happen and one mistake could lose us the game. I kick open the door, and no one is there. Haha of course, I think. No one is brave enough to come up against me, the ruthless slayer, Jonathan Lee.

I take my shower and brush my teeth. I begin to spike up my hair, but I realize that my hair might be too revealing and may possibly give away my hiding position to an enemy. I quickly decide to go with the “Compton” hat, simple yet powerful. Good thinking, Jonathan. You’re so smart.

I go down to the kitchen with my gun in hand, and slyly turn on the lights. No one’s here. Perfectly executed, Jonathan. Just like you practiced. I make myself some Frosted Flakes (a.k.a. the cereal for champions), while listening to my favorite pump up song, “Survivor” by my girls, Destiny’s Child.

Before leaving, I make my usual morning protein shake to make sure that my body can handle any event that occurs today. I look at my phone to check the motivational quote of the day. “Live, laugh, love.”

Ah, today is going to be a good day, I think.

I put on my brand new black velcro shoes, which I bought to make sure that I wouldn’t  have to waste time tying my shoes. In battle, every second counts. I go towards the door and without thinking, I open it. I look out, and I see him huddled by my doorstep. With a calm face and slight grin, he aims the gun towards me, and before I can react, his bullet hits me. I fall face flat on the front lawn. He laughs at me and dances around me.

As he walks away, I  think to myself, What left do I have to live for? I know that the roasts will be infinite in the group chat when I tell the team—saying things like, “Jonathan, you’re not a ruthless slayer” and, “Damn Jonathan, back at it again with the L.” I begin to cry, feeling hopeless and worthless. Like a bird without its wings. Like a cow without its “moo.” Like a white North Shore girl without her 4-day pass to Lollapalooza.

Then I begin to hear a sound in the distance, much like my alarm. “BRRRNNGG! BRRRNNGG!” I wake up and realize it was all just a scary dream.

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