Why is George Clooney in my dorm room?

“Call me Danny” he says

Either I’m hallucinating or he’s crazy. 

“I read your paper on predicting laminar flow in closed systems”

Ok I must be hallucinating because even if somehow George Clooney was here , there’s no way he read a paper I half assed for my fluid dynamics class

“Very interesting stuff. Now if we can just use your research to predict the movement of heated wax in a translucent fluid…”

Halluciclooney must see the incredulity on my face about the whole situation, and he mistakes it for disbelief in the specifics of his plan

“Listen I have a demo, a driver, a distraction, and three Brad Pitts , but I need you if we’re going to pull this one off” he frantically rambles 

“This one?” I sputter, the first words I’ve actually gotten out of my mouth

“Kid, we’re stealing the internet”

You travelled all day to get here. You passed factories and junk lots and finally into a whole borrow with yards full of tires and old cars and a washing machine.

You nervously check to make sure you have everything:
Menthol cigarettes
Hot pork rinds
Canned tuna in oil
and 2 triple bacon burgers

You park, rehearsing in your head the words you must say. You pass a couch in the yard and so many newport boxes. Ralphie, guarded by The Cousins, is already waiting for you.

You set the burgers down for each of the guard dogs, fearful of the low growls in their throats. You lay the rest of your offering down and throw yourself to your knees with head down. “Oracle, I need your help!”