2004-02-06 - 10:02 p.m.

I don't want to do anything illegal here, but I'd kill a guy in front of his own mother for a ten speed.

Day Three

A long nap sure helps keeping a large scale plan afloat. As I awoke inside the moving car, I soon noticed familiar surroundings flying past the windows; Seems like Alan is good at reading highway signs after all. We were fast approaching our destination, and I was throwing around questions in my head just as quickly amongst the drowsiness. Did the Alans make it? Will the plan work? Does the Alan on my left ever sleep? Only time would tell, and the only thing time was gossiping about at the moment was late afternoon. And it was amidst that very setting that we embarked upon the entrance to St.Louis. We drove downtown for a visit, and parked the car in a nearby lot for an outdoor restaurant. Evaluating the surroundings, things looked without interruption outside of some public speech at the Old Courthouse that was winding down a block away.

Alan and I walked up through the grass and oversaw the unusual amounts of men gathered throughout the Arch boundaries. Outside of feeling as if I were attending a gay pride picnic, I was relieved to see them all there. As we walked down towards the belly of the monument, the speakeasy owner from Boston greeted us hastily. He made us aware that our presence amongst the Alans was now well known, and the proceedings would go as planned. Almost as soon as the words escaped his mouth, the surrounding Alans started to seem less idle and much busier.

BANG!

About the time of the explosion, “What the hell” must have been uttered by me and every other civilian as a flash of light shown above our heads; our heads that were now pointed at the climax of the arch as we witnessed random fireworks accenting the dimming daylight. Soon, the misplaced reign of lights started to blast like popcorn, and Alan and I became first-hand witnesses of power in numbers. As if out of nowhere, we were in the eye of a tornado, and it was suddenly realized that there were far more Alans scattered about than were present in the little bar yesterday. These rejuvenated Alans used this to their advantage to riot the streets and sidewalks as they wished. I was either lucky or misfortunate to witness the biggest non-surprise attack this centaury, as the fireworks continued to oddly blare amongst the sudden havoc of running and screaming Alans attacking anyone and anything they could find.

Around then was when it really hit me hard that there wasn’t going to be a huge Alan bake sale to earn money for an Alan empire.

Twenty years of oppression was being portrayed violently all around me, and I knew the police would never get down there in time before someone got hurt; my instincts told me I had to do something quickly. I had lost sight of Alan in the melee, and couldn’t seem to find anything of use to stop the mass amounts of people. No fire trucks or firearms...but there was that podium! I didn’t know what I was going to do for sure, but I bolted towards the now evacuated platform. After all, my public speaking and writing abilities have been critically acclaimed for years amongst my peers!

It’s a shame I had forged it all.

But I honestly had no other option but to try...something. I got up to the stand and quickly messed with the knobs, turning the microphone on and the volume up so that my voice would be heard as far as a half mile.

I looked out at the madness and riots from my little podium and sat in my personal silence of nervousness and speaker humming. I knew I had to extract something peace-like and moving from the many styles of people who have unknowingly written for me, but I had no real idea of how it would come out. But as I started to speak up, I heard a collective gasp from the audience as some sort of gargoyle-like statue got pushed off the roof of a hotel and gave out a large crash as it collided with the concrete and parked cars. Clearly it must have been one of the committed Alans still at large. But damages aside, I couldn’t complain, as it gave me more time. But just as their short term memory erased my stand from their minds, I was greeted by a tap on the shoulder. A tap that included some strange briefcase carrying man’s piece of paper that read, “READ THIS” in all caps at the top. He then tipped his hat and pranced off. Not to argue with this seemingly intellectual motive, I unfolded the notebook paper and started to read aloud:

Hi, I'm Alan, and this isn't anyone else talking a speech for Alan. Certainly it isn't Alan's friend Adam who is much better than Alan in every way. It would just be silly to think Alan was just thinking about what Adam would be saying, thus proving how awesome I am. I being, uh, Alan. So, there's nothing to be suspicious about.

I was a bit shook up by the vibrations of the speakers, but even more shook up the fact that just about every person in front of me had turned to see where the sound was coming from. But from that point on, I had nothing else to say and nowhere else to go. I was being glared down, and I could do nothing but shake and continue reading the paper convincingly:

What I would do if I were you is send Adam money, as I, Alan, am preparing to do right now once you stop violating the ATM. Money and power. Power actually can't be sent through the mail to his address via check or money order as the money you are preparing to send him can, but I'm pretty sure there's a Paypal option for it. Like, somewhere at the bottom. And if you squint real hard, you might see some nipple.

So, this is about the time where I mention a person/place Adam's never really heard of. For the purposes of this anecdote, Alan is familiar with someone named Suede. Who has this really sexy evil goatee. So one time, me and Suede and his evil goatee were going to Apple Dome at the pier when all of the sudden, Margaret comes out of somewhere and says something slutty. Like, "Sex and my mouth" or something, I don't know. When she leaves, I turn to Suede and say "Have you played the new Gamecube/GBA game? That is a great game." Suede answers, "Yes, it reminds me of reference to an older Nintendo game from the N64 or Super here."

Then we talked about Bono's hot tight jeans until the sun set. At which point vampires devoured Suede and everyone I had ever met.

What's the moral of this speech, you ask? What can you get out of this seemingly meaningless babble that one could accurately assume I wrote by slamming my bawled-up head upon this podium repeatedly? Well, kids, just remember, as you walk that long road of li-- Wait, I'm Alan. Um...

Boy, am I ever Mexican.

As if the director had cued silence, the fireworks had all but stopped, the traffic was at a snail’s pace in thanks to gawkers, and the Alans had stopped long enough to listen to their leader. Not only that, but a chain of absurd laughter had completely overtook them. It’s safe to say that’s when I felt the most bonding with my tribe. And you could almost see the tension evaporate into the wounded air.

Soon I was sitting in my room by myself. It had been two weeks since the fabled “Alan Hunt” had occurred. My accomplice Alan had seemingly gone back into hiding, and many of the other Alans were dealt with accordingly by the police. Consequently, their story about abuse had gotten out to the public, and Boston University is now under investigation. As for me, I suffered no real repercussions and actually have taken the incident as a lesson in enjoying being a rare breed amongst society. Even more, the experience of giving such an original speech from the heart and from a stranger had jumpstarted my passion for writing, which started with this very story. So if you ever run across an Alan in your lifetime, do me a favor and shake his hand and maybe a little pat on the bum, will you?

The Amazing Spider-Man - Web of Spider-Man