Why a weirdass weekend has to cap itself off with extra-weird shit only hours before it ends is beyond me.
Why did it involve me having to speed away from a fast-food drive-thru--throwing my card through the window and shouting that I'll be back--so I can confirm the license number of and follow, on behalf of the 911 dispatcher I'm talking to, the car that was in front of me in line? The one where I just saw the female passenger shout "What did I do wrong?!" and the male answer "Everything!" before grabbing her left arm and twisting it behind the front seat. That was when she screamed and the little girl in the back seat screamed.
They realized I was following them and were driving around strangely trying to lose me. Indeed, a cop would later tell me that we had been driving in the opposite direction of their house.
Gotta watch the police blotter for a few days.
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Anyway, I wrote you a story:
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Neil lowered his gun and pointed it at little Johnny’s forehead. Behind him on the ground, chest blown open, was the body of Johnny’s dad.
“You go on ahead now, boy. You nurse that hate into something monstrous. Then you come find me.”
It would be eleven years before they met again for the last time.
When John saw who had ordered the coffee at table seven, he ran back into the kitchen and was sick in the mop sink. After letting out a few short sobs, he wiped his mouth and stood up. He picked up his tray again and spat in the mug.
By the time he got back out to the dining room, Neil had already paid and left.
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Anyway, I wrote you another story:
------------------ These things fly like a dream, Brian thought to himself.
My hands fit perfectly around each one, and all I gotta do is keep ‘em over my head, and fwoosh, off I go.
The guy I got ‘em from said they had some sort of experimental new battery in ‘em, could fly for a hundred years without refueling. There’s not even any exhaust or anything, the guy said that they repulsed matter on a molecular level to produce the necessary thrust for liftoff and actual flight. Or some shit like that.
He said they worked because of some sorta nanotech he’d wired to the muscles in his calves and feet. After I killed him and broke his legs off at the knees, it only took a little experimental squeezing around the ankles to make just the right connection.
It took a bit, but I got ‘em figured out, and boy, do these things fly like a dream.
------------------Anyway, I made a Valentine's Day Sheet Of Paper for Sara:------------------
------------------ Also, I write myself a lot of weird notes, sometimes on the back of Red Lobster receipts------------------
Happy Mondays,
b
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fairyarmadillo and I made Valentine's Day cards for each other as we laid in bed last night. She also made one for everybody with her little piggy, Zoot. :D
