"From the folds of his robe he removed a shiny silver object; at my reduced height I could see it for what it was: a microphone, not unlike the Shure Beta 58A he gave to me whilst in the pit at the San Diego concert two short weeks ago. He held the microphone out at waist level, it's shiny silver knobbed head even with my face.

"Give me all that you have", he said. "Make it hurt. Make it hurt real good, now."

"I love the pain."

Suddenly the stockade burst open, and I was free! But I didn't run; instead, I clasped both hands around Trent's, and brought the microphone to my lips. "Perfect little dream, the kind that hurts the most," I uttered.

"Forgot how it feels?" Trent asked me?

"Well, almost." I replied."

May the With Teeth era of Trent Reznor fanfic rock on! :(