(And then some seriously scowling, yet strangely beautiful girls in uniforms and probably with arm bands, staring down at me, lying on the floor for some reason, waiting for my response).

Personally, I'd suddenly be conflicted about my freedom:/

(But then, hopefully, Arnold would have another car accident, or another accidental maid-baby, and my admittedly fetishized love for that uniformed gitl situation might actally clear toward reality).

Not that I'd necessarily wish for TOO much reality, of course. Those stern uniformed young girls ought to exist in the reality plane. Or at least in mine, anyway.