I clicked the keys on the typewriter. After that page was finished, there would be just seven pages left. I looked at the clock which read 2:00AM. Eight hours stood between now and the deadline. At least the other classes' assignments wouldn't be due until the end of the year.

I realized I had a spare hour if I wrote one page each hour. The decision of what to do with this hour was quickly determined by my hunger. Burger Chef was my destination. While chomping down my cheeseburger I looked around at the unusually large 2:00 crowd. Did they have assignments due or was it something else? On the way back to my dorm room I noticed more traffic than I expected. Strange.

Back in my room I had finished three more pages; 6:00. Time for the early-birds to turn up their stereos. I wrote another page; 7:00. Bright sunlight beamed through the windows and birds chirped, but still no music blasting through the walls. I contemplated this occurrence for a moment, but returned to my assignment within a short time. There were, after all, only three pages left.

Success! I finished my paper. Eight pages of genius! I was so awed by my abilities I didn't notice the silence until I reached the door. Attempting to turn the knob and open the door I realized I couldn't! The knob turned, but I could not force the door open. I was really glad I finished my assignment on time! The only thing I could think of to do was to sit down and think about this for a while. Right by the door would be a good place to sit, considering my hand was glued to the door.

I knew now why the stereos were off. The unsuspecting early-birds had tried to go outside only to be glued to their doors. They could not reach their stereos to turn them on. I paused for a second, thinking I could hear the faint whittling of a door.

I had never heard of a prank so big before. Things this big are not just pranks. They are part of a master plan of some sort. What could it be? I decided to investigate. Remembering the door knob, I decided just to wait it out where I was. When my roommate returned next week he would find me.

The blaring alarm on my clock woke me up. In one hour the alarm would turn back off. A distant rumbling I didn't notice before gradually grew louder, as if something was approaching. As I listened I could pick out yells and screams of injustice. Was this protest the master plan? By changes in the rumbling, I could tell they were approaching my floor.

Loud shouts accompanied by loud footsteps shook my door. There was a new sound, too. The sound of police. This protest must have gotten out of hand. The protesters must have been scared, or at least not thinking straight, because they started running into the rooms. They must have, because the doors opened and shut, which couldn't have been done by anyone inside. Someone opened my door, too. I didn't know much about them, because they slammed me into the wall when they closed the door.

Now I am in jail. I am surrounded by scrubs who haven't taken a bath in six of seven months. They probably don't even know how to spell what they smoke. I have no idea what my charges are or when I was arrested. I'm just pretty sure that assignment will be late.