Ryan Connors- The Briefcase: Ratatat- grinkkkkkk- flick, flick, flick- my tin-can defensive barrier begins to ring, accompanied by some unfamiliar body parts clambering through the dense forest floor. I'm startled from my rest and my eyes flicker open. Swoosh swoosh sweeeesh. I lean up on my elbow and try to pierce through the black tree-scape that surrounds me. Funny enough, way out here, there aren't even stars to brighten the night. Ratata-grinkkkk, again violently. And then realized and silenced like a cymbal on a drum kit. As quietly as I dare, I use my upper body strength to slide out of my sleeping bag, and roll backwards. I nearly miss my mark and tumble down the side of the cliff I was sleeping beside. Trosh trosh tro- silence. I have one hand on the side of the cliff and my feet are desperately searching for purchase. For a long moment the only noise I can here are the trees wrapping their branches around one another and then it is silent again. In one swift move I pull up, grab the briefcase out from under one of their feet, successfully toppling them over, and then push off and away. In a backwards free-fall I glide for a moment before opening the suitcase and folding myself inside, managing to hitch it closed just before it embraces the jagged rocks at the base of the cliff. The briefcase opens on a trite little town. The small huts are constructed of clay and the men and women are only clothed to cover their nether regions). Not my preferred place of business, but, then again when that baby sold me this thing he mentioned it may act kooky sometimes. My gut told me something was fishy, but with no desire to find a job and nowhere to live, I did't have much of a choice. I guess the moral of the story is don't buy time traveling briefcases from babies in red overall's that sound like Seth MacFarlane. Strange glances steadily began sticking to me, so I lost some clothes and hid the briefcase. I decided to go for a walk and didn't make it far until I heard screams and a gnashing under my feet. The earth-quake felt like I was standing on a ladder that had shifted off of a giant's back. Plates opened up, the ground split, many miasmic aromas filled the air and supressed the weaker of the villagers. There I was running in nothing but my skivvies down the side of the fucking volcano back towards my briefcase when siren's (mermaid's older, hotter cousin) begin surfacing, plucking at the air with their fangs and singing louder than the fast-flowing lava. Down the path there are three villagers inspecting my briefcase. I leap inside it and stand there for an awkward moment. We just kind of look at each-other, before I fold my legs in and tighten the latch once more. Before I reveal myself, the sound of yee-hawing and guitar plucking become audible. I open it to discover I am at a country music festival, and quickly close it again.