After yesterday’s encounter with Mr Pelican post delivery man and his message from who can only be classified as The Trap Setting Son of a Bitch, there was no doubt in my mind that I needed to act. I am convinced that this bastard has made their life in Meowland and is living amongst us.
It was early morning and I was wide awake. I had been for some time. It was still dark out but I didn’t really want to go out there. I knew that if I did, then the residents would want to talk to me and I just didn’t have the patients for some of their stupidity right now. I mulled around my house and finally gave in.
I heard the buzzing of my alarm clock. It was 10:30am. I wasn’t ready to get up. I hit the snooze button. The alarm went off again ten minutes later. I shut the machine off. I lay in bed and fell back asleep.
Today was Saturday. I was watching my Raja B Butterfly and admiring it’s beauty. It was fluttering about. Suddenly I got a whiff of something odd smelling.
The dream came again last night. It started off the usual way with the rain hitting the window, rolling down and making larger droplets. On cue the power went out. I was sitting in the dark but didn’t really mind. Then total blackness, as if I was blind. Then the eyes appeared. They look so angry. They keep getting closer and closer. Or is it just bigger and bigger? Suddenly I hear screaming. That’s new.
I was having trouble sleeping. It was early in the morning. Or late at night. Depends on your perspective. Either way it was about 3:00am. Maybe it was from not having a real bed to sleep in or maybe it was from the thoughts of my past running through my head.
Another fine morning. I could hear the rain hitting my roof and rolling off in big drops to the ground below. I looked out the window and saw my fruit trees had grown even more overnight. I made the decision to not go to the office today. I knew there was nothing I could do.
I looked out the window at the day I figured was already going to be bad. I don’t have a bed yet, so I’ve been sleeping on the wooden floor. Not to mention the house is full of junk and there is little room for me to stretch out.
Last night in my tent as I was falling in and out of sleep I had a nightmare. The Scary painting I purchased from that rip-off merchant fox was haunting me. It was angry that I had buried it on the beach never to be found again. It was perched on the wall of my new house and it wouldn’t go. I couldn’t get rid of it.
I’ve never been horrible at Grand Theft Auto games. Not great by any means, but good enough to beat any mission I play, even if it takes me multiple attempts. As Rockstar release newer titles in the GTA series, the better I get. Out of the eight GTA games that I have played, only GTA: San Andreas and GTA IV have had the honour of gracing me with their ending credits. Even then it took me