- OMG WTF DUDE
Ah, routine.
Just like any other day, i first heard the high pitched screeching of a nearby fire siren. Custom dictacted i haul the three gas grenades i bought the night before (courts were selling them at discount) and fling them out the window.
On an ordinary day.
The rays of morning light didnt tear through the windows like they used to, but instead warmly drifted in and delivered Cornettos, and it was raining way too heavily for a cloudless sky. Instead I decided to return to happily snoozing the hours away. But i didnt have that convenience, for just as i began dreaming about ninja matchsticks (which was about the same time the keyboards were about to launch a massive offensive on the empire state building), a battalion of Nazis- all wearing ties of varrying patterns- stormed in singing "Ride of the Valkyries", decimating my peaceful slumber. Annoyed, i stretched my legs and opened my eyes- and was greeted by the most peculiar sight.
Staring back at me was the severed head of a rabbit, still gruesome and bloody. This was most unusual, for the night before i remember tucking it UNDER my bed, instead of on it. Still puzzled, i swung my right arm in front of me, knocking the head to the floor with a soft thump.
I sat up, arms lazily rested on my legs, and surveyed the scene, leaving out unimportant questions like "any other comments? if so, what are they?" and "are there any other feature's you'd like to see added?". The first thing i noticed were the bags of pringles scattered all over the floor, prominent like notices on a stretch of road, but more scattered. They were torn open, ripped like a conned passer-by. The chips themselves were not only all half eaten, but playing hopscotch on the parquet. Which was odd because i dont remember ever opening those bags, or any bags to begin with. I concluded that i must have been hungry at some point. I brushed my bed to check for the bedsheet. Yup, still there.
I pushed myself out of bed and changed into the usual, brushed my teeth, washed my face, blew my nose, combed my hair, scraped my tongue, oiled my cyborg arm and summoned two demon guards. I didnt remember the candles i bought for the ritual to be quite so purple, nor did i remember carving on them the runic symbols that covered each candle top to bottom. I was just about to forget this strange phenomenon.
When an arrow flew into the room, followed by a loud crashing noise, the kind you get when sharp objects pierce windows. Funny. I didnt have windows at that part of the room. But i decided to formulate my theories on how the arrow got in some other time, and ducked for cover like a farmer who wanted to cover his duck. The arrow hit the wall-side trashcan and cut through it like a javelin through a hamster, spilling its contents all over the floor. I was shocked beyond words. For one, i distinctly remember emptying that trash can last night, and its contents did not make me content. A second later i began wondering why an arrow would ever act in such an obnoxious manner.
And then it hit me.
The runic symbols were there because i had woken up in the middle of the night to carve them on! But the mystery of the arrow was still baffling. Torturing it for answers, death threats, hypnotism, all of it bore no results. Demoralised, i decided to hide the arrow somewhere below the roof but above the floor. The arrow pointed and mocked. I was convinced it was time to get out of the place. I grabbed a pair of socks as i passed the microwave, slide down the stairs and headed towards the door.
The fire sirens started again. I tore the pin off the smoke grenades behind the family portraits and flung it out the nearest window, and the results were immediate. A troupe of clowns appeared doing somersaults.
But it wasnt summer. Nor did i have any salt.
This was too much. The tiny bizzareness began to take its effect on me (i have a short temper, you can tell). It was time to take things into my own hands, time to weed out the root of the plant of irregularity. I stormed out of the house, confident that whatever i had to do, it was out there somewhere. I was stopped halfway down the road by a friendly police officer, who sent me home to get some pants, after which i set off again, feeling all of the above, and also wearing pants.
Well, so far so good.
(to be continued...)
5:49 AM"But it wasnt summer. Nor did i have any salt."
SMITE! I AM MOSES, and I should feel you dog, you great drooling boob!
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