I'm at a retreat being thrown in the woods by Trent Reznor as a thank you to people that have worked for him. As I'm putting up my tent along with fifty or so other 'campers', I misplace my hammer. Trent comes over and hands me a new one. 'You really need to spend more time working on your own songs and less time searching for tools.' He then puts a pair of goggles on and runs off to join a game of paintball.

I am fourth in the line of command on the Starship Enterprise. The ship has just allowed another in distress to dock and its crew come aboard. We soon realize they are Frenchmen afflicted with a cannibal-like condition. The Enterprise crew scatters as the French begin biting and howling -- Bones McCoy locks himself in the lab to attempt an antidote while Spock alerts the main deck, immediately quarantining the lower levels. As the French crew begin infecting everyone, I am left in charge of the chaos and receive a bite on the forearm.

Feeling myself slip into a zombie-like state, I yell 'We have 24 hours before the virus takes permanent hold! Try and keep composure while Doc works on a remedy. In the meantime, let's hit the supermarket!' All the zombies run toward the market, which is remarkably large and not unlike a massive Wal-Mart.

I find Elisa, who has the beehive hair and body of communications officer Aurora/Amy Winehouse, tearing apart a steak in the meat section. As I put my hand on the back of her neck, the neck turns into a set of teeth and bites down on me. 'Stop,' I yell, 'we have 24 hours and I'm going to need my hand!' Other zombies are ripping apart packages of chicken and beef. In one section, massive bags of potato chips are being shred and devoured.

The song 'Thriller' starts loudly over the intercom and Elisa stops eating and starts the 'Thriller' dance. Others fall in line and begin to do it along side her in tandem. Suddenly everyone has large tails and fangs, dancing to Michael Jackson. I look down and notice my Star Trek uniform is now in the colors of the French flag and realize my transformation to a full-on French zombie is almost complete.

I am in a self-checkout line trying to pay for lunch in my high school cafeteria. Scanning the items to purchase, I insert bills into the automated machine. For every dollar put in it, the machine spits out two brand new $20 bills. Giddy after doing this three times, I quickly take my items to the lunch table before getting caught.

At the table, friends from various stages of my life are sitting around talking. 'There's karaoke today,' says an old co-worker, 'and I hear they are going to have some of your songs at the sign-up table.'

We make our way to an enormous auditorium. The band consists of three very young guys, all amazing on their instruments. The drummer is tucked behind a giant curtain because he's so loud. My friend Alissa beckons that she's found seats near the front, and we put our book bags down and head to a small table near the stage with a song list. One of my songs, 'Kissy Kissy NYC', is on a piece of paper but is misspelled 'Cise Cise FYI'. Alissa pats me sympathetically and says 'Hey, at least you've made it to having a song at karaoke!' She goes through the list and signs her name next to an AC/DC song as I frantically look for Van Halen.

Suddenly the band begins and out pops an aged David Lee Roth. His face looks plastic, but his hair is old school. The band starts to play 'Running With The Devil' and Dave begins to sing words that don't make any sense. After the first chorus, the band quits playing and Dave screams a howl into the mic. 'Welcome to the show, folks,' he says, 'and ain't my drummer the loudest you've ever heard? Be sure to sign up, we'll be right back!'

I follow him backstage, telling him that 'Running With the Devil' was 'even better than the recorded version'. He scowls and mumbles something before running off. I duck back out to the auditorium and see Alissa doing loud vocal warm-ups with the band. Out a window I see an old high school friend, Lisa Hinton, pulling up with a van full of people for the show. She's wearing a pair of sunglasses and a fake mustache and begins slyly motioning to me to 'get out of there'. I realize she's with undercover police who have been tipped off about the twenty dollar bills in change from the cafeteria, so I run to the karaoke list, scratch off my name, and take off.