This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive.
Even better, I found a ten speed bicycle yesterday. It was in the back yard of a house; chained up of course. One pistol shot took care of that. I am feeling like a real survivor now when I use a gun as a lockpick.
There was a bicycle pump sitting right next to it and I grabbed it too. It had been ages since I rode a bike but it felt nice to be able to coast down the street. I drove it back to Home Base and then walked back to retrieve my wheelbarrow.
It is hard to carry anything on it but for the first time I feel like I have some real mobility. All last night I kept planning what I was going to explore this morning. I kept thinking about rigging up some sort of basket or maybe a cart. My plans were very systematic and thorough. I was going to map out a square mile around me.
Shit, as soon as I got on that bicycle this morning, I just rode. I carried a backpack and four pistols. I picked a direction and rode down the street. I forgot about looting and just felt the wind in my face and the glorious feeling of speed.
It is really weird. The trip itself was pretty depressing. I came across so much dried blood, splattered on the roads. There were a few car crashes where I could see that bodies had been pulled out of cars. I saw too many damn dead children, eaten almost entirely. It was a fucking slaughterhouse but I was pretty upbeat because I was out of the house and riding something other than my own two legs.
I did stop at one house. Someone had spray painted the word ‘HELP” in big white letters. The house itself had the front door open and one of the windows was smashed in. I knew better than to stop and look but I stopped anyway. It was obvious that zombies had killed whatever survived here, but there was that chance, you know?
The house was another stockpile. Canned food was stacked in the living room in a very familiar manner. A generator sat in the living room, completely emptied of gas. There were four space heaters plugged up to it and I wondered how much gas they burned just to stay warm.
The kitchen was horrific. Body parts lay on the floor. There weren’t enough bits to make a third of a corpse. Whoever lived in this house died in the kitchen. Even more fucked up was a loaded shotgun sitting on the counter. Fuck, they died in the same room as their gun.
I checked the canned food and found that a shitload of chunky soup. Man, I have never been so grateful to see vegetable beef soup. Canned meat was something I could ration and not have to eat before it went bad. They were big ass cans, but I stuffed them into my backpack. I would have to come back for the rest later.
The rest of the house was pretty bare. There was no bottled water so I am guessing they were drinking tap water. There were plenty of cigarette packages which made me laugh. At least I don’t a nicotine habit to worry about during the apocalypse. No books, magazines, games or anything to keep themselves entertained. What the fuck were they doing? Last week I snatched a Golf magazine from a house just to have something to read. I was starting to wonder that this survivor might have been a terribly boring person.
Having said, I sure wish they were alive. I would kill to have someone to talk to.
I am going to finish my soup lunch and get back on the bike. I want to do some more riding while the sun is out.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Sunday, February 7, 2010
February 7th
This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive.
Things got a bit exciting this morning. It must be the adrenaline because I am upbeat after nearly getting killed today.
I was pushing my wheelbarrow up the street, looking for more houses to loot. I ran across one zombie and he was so far down the street, that I decided to use my rifle. I balanced it on the wheelbarrow and lined my shot.
BAM! One shot, one kill. I have turned into a damn Sniper after all.
I was still congratulating myself when a dozen zombies came out of a house. What the Hell they were doing there I didn’t know yet. I’m glad I didn’t because I would have lost my nerve.
The bizarre thing was that all of them were wearing police uniforms. I must have stared at them for a good three seconds as I thought they were actual police come to rescue me. I studied their lurching movements, hoping that maybe they were just acting.
The horrible moans convinced me that they were zombies.
Still, it was very hard to open fire on something wearing a police uniform. My first few shots missed. I was shaking. I hope it was because there were a dozen of them. I mean, that is a shitload of zombies.
I stopped aiming for heads and went for legs. Legs are remarkably easy to hit. Sometimes it would take two or three shits to shatter a bone but it was better than missing head shots. Also, when you shoot into a crowd of zombies, you are going to hit something.
I took down three of them when one of the zombies did something terrifying. He pulled out his gun. He pointed it at me and I ran like a coward behind a parked car. He didn’t fire but fuck, I was scared. The other zombies pulled out their guns and I nearly ran back to Home Base right there.
They didn’t fire though. Whatever part of their dead brains that remembered guns couldn’t follow through. Maybe zombie fingers suck at pulling triggers, I don’t know. I was just grateful that shooting zombies were not a new problem.
Using the car for balance, I took better aim and started hitting skulls. My rifle ran out of bullets and switched to my pistol. I actually did better with the pistol so I should remember that for latter. When my first pistol ran out, I finished the last two off with my second pistol.
It sounds boring when I type it that way but fuck, my heart was pounding. It is not like a game where you can hit reset when you lose. Every miss physically hurts because I realize that might have been the bullet that stopped a zombie from killing me. Even when I am winning and they never come close to me, it is scarier than you can imagine.
I checked inside the house they came out of. They had broken in to eat some dogs. It was fucked up. How the dogs were able to stay alive is a miracle but all that was left now was corpses and shit. There was slit open bags of dog food every where. I have no fucking idea what the dogs were doing for water. The place stunk of dog shit and piss. I had to leave, it stunk too bad and dead dogs were the last thing I wanted to see
I have to say, the fact that three dogs without thumbs could live that long made me feel like I could do fucking anything. I do wonder about their owners. How can leaving three dogs locked in a house be considered a good idea? Those poor damn dogs.
The police zombies had guns. Fuck, I gathered shit for food this morning but I have a hell of a lot more guns and ammo.
Things got a bit exciting this morning. It must be the adrenaline because I am upbeat after nearly getting killed today.
I was pushing my wheelbarrow up the street, looking for more houses to loot. I ran across one zombie and he was so far down the street, that I decided to use my rifle. I balanced it on the wheelbarrow and lined my shot.
BAM! One shot, one kill. I have turned into a damn Sniper after all.
I was still congratulating myself when a dozen zombies came out of a house. What the Hell they were doing there I didn’t know yet. I’m glad I didn’t because I would have lost my nerve.
The bizarre thing was that all of them were wearing police uniforms. I must have stared at them for a good three seconds as I thought they were actual police come to rescue me. I studied their lurching movements, hoping that maybe they were just acting.
The horrible moans convinced me that they were zombies.
Still, it was very hard to open fire on something wearing a police uniform. My first few shots missed. I was shaking. I hope it was because there were a dozen of them. I mean, that is a shitload of zombies.
I stopped aiming for heads and went for legs. Legs are remarkably easy to hit. Sometimes it would take two or three shits to shatter a bone but it was better than missing head shots. Also, when you shoot into a crowd of zombies, you are going to hit something.
I took down three of them when one of the zombies did something terrifying. He pulled out his gun. He pointed it at me and I ran like a coward behind a parked car. He didn’t fire but fuck, I was scared. The other zombies pulled out their guns and I nearly ran back to Home Base right there.
They didn’t fire though. Whatever part of their dead brains that remembered guns couldn’t follow through. Maybe zombie fingers suck at pulling triggers, I don’t know. I was just grateful that shooting zombies were not a new problem.
Using the car for balance, I took better aim and started hitting skulls. My rifle ran out of bullets and switched to my pistol. I actually did better with the pistol so I should remember that for latter. When my first pistol ran out, I finished the last two off with my second pistol.
It sounds boring when I type it that way but fuck, my heart was pounding. It is not like a game where you can hit reset when you lose. Every miss physically hurts because I realize that might have been the bullet that stopped a zombie from killing me. Even when I am winning and they never come close to me, it is scarier than you can imagine.
I checked inside the house they came out of. They had broken in to eat some dogs. It was fucked up. How the dogs were able to stay alive is a miracle but all that was left now was corpses and shit. There was slit open bags of dog food every where. I have no fucking idea what the dogs were doing for water. The place stunk of dog shit and piss. I had to leave, it stunk too bad and dead dogs were the last thing I wanted to see
I have to say, the fact that three dogs without thumbs could live that long made me feel like I could do fucking anything. I do wonder about their owners. How can leaving three dogs locked in a house be considered a good idea? Those poor damn dogs.
The police zombies had guns. Fuck, I gathered shit for food this morning but I have a hell of a lot more guns and ammo.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
February 6th
I am Jimmy Varn and what do you know? I am still alive.
It was raining lightly this morning so I went back to grave digging. Wet ground was a lot easier to move around. I dropped what was left of Screamer’s body into the grave and covered it up. It might have been stupid to do it with my back sore but I had to. She was a stranger but she was just like me. She was just trying to live.
I buried her and said good luck to her spirit.
I went back to looting the houses. I came across two zombies in the street. They looked pathetic. I think they were both women but it can be hard to tell. They looked soaked and miserable. Both of them wore thick coats that I was tempted to steal if it wasn’t for the fact that they had blood soaked into them.
Took me five shots to get them. I need to work on my aim.
Freezer meat is getting rarer. I found some pork chops that frankly look a little freezer burned but I am going to try them. There have been way too many frozen dinners too. I might move a microwave down to the basement and let the generator cook them because frying them is sometimes disastrous. Too bad that most of the frozen meals are for people on a diet. I need some fattening portions.
I found a can of biscuits and I might try heating them over the fire. Bread would be awesome.
Man, food is a daily obsession. Every morning I look at my dining room table and I mentally divide the food into days. I have ten days of food if I eat three meals a day. I’ve worked my way down the street and am starting to wrap around the block. I need to find three meals a day in order to stay even, and anything else is gained time. Anything less is another day closer to starvation.
Thank Sweet baby Jesus for the chocolate chip cookies. Three a day makes up for any bean/pea/spinach combination I end up eating in a day.
I set up the water barrel outside. I got really smart and found a screen door that I cut up. I got the idea from whatever screen that cars use to stop siphoning. The screen won’t stop bugs but at least it won’t turn into a bird bath. Now it just needs to really rain.
Little Joe was trying to climb a different tree. I thought about helping him up. I am not sure what he would do if he got up there.
Then I remembered he was a fucking zombie and I should really shoot him one day. Fuck, he’s not a pet.
Time to go back to looting. The pork chops look almost okay.
It was raining lightly this morning so I went back to grave digging. Wet ground was a lot easier to move around. I dropped what was left of Screamer’s body into the grave and covered it up. It might have been stupid to do it with my back sore but I had to. She was a stranger but she was just like me. She was just trying to live.
I buried her and said good luck to her spirit.
I went back to looting the houses. I came across two zombies in the street. They looked pathetic. I think they were both women but it can be hard to tell. They looked soaked and miserable. Both of them wore thick coats that I was tempted to steal if it wasn’t for the fact that they had blood soaked into them.
Took me five shots to get them. I need to work on my aim.
Freezer meat is getting rarer. I found some pork chops that frankly look a little freezer burned but I am going to try them. There have been way too many frozen dinners too. I might move a microwave down to the basement and let the generator cook them because frying them is sometimes disastrous. Too bad that most of the frozen meals are for people on a diet. I need some fattening portions.
I found a can of biscuits and I might try heating them over the fire. Bread would be awesome.
Man, food is a daily obsession. Every morning I look at my dining room table and I mentally divide the food into days. I have ten days of food if I eat three meals a day. I’ve worked my way down the street and am starting to wrap around the block. I need to find three meals a day in order to stay even, and anything else is gained time. Anything less is another day closer to starvation.
Thank Sweet baby Jesus for the chocolate chip cookies. Three a day makes up for any bean/pea/spinach combination I end up eating in a day.
I set up the water barrel outside. I got really smart and found a screen door that I cut up. I got the idea from whatever screen that cars use to stop siphoning. The screen won’t stop bugs but at least it won’t turn into a bird bath. Now it just needs to really rain.
Little Joe was trying to climb a different tree. I thought about helping him up. I am not sure what he would do if he got up there.
Then I remembered he was a fucking zombie and I should really shoot him one day. Fuck, he’s not a pet.
Time to go back to looting. The pork chops look almost okay.
Friday, February 5, 2010
February 5th
This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive.
Well that was a weird day yesterday. I drank all of the beer and for some fucked up reason, I slept in the bed upstairs. It was a lot warmer than I expected, but it looks like I piled about ten different blankets on top of me.
And I pooped in the upstairs bathroom. Sigh, I can’t flush it so I’ll have to come up with something.
I don’t know if it was the drinking or just the fact that I laid around on my ass, but my back feels so much better. I think I was just exhausted. I have been working pretty hard since the zombie parade went through and I need to pace myself. I keep thinking of the next thing that needs doing and I am only one fucking man.
Still need to finish burying Screamer but I will give it one more day. Today I am forcing myself to relax without drinking or feeling sorry for myself.
I can not believe I sent e-mails out to ex-girlfriends but it is not a bad idea in theory. I sent a message to everyone on my address book to see if anyone responds. Great, it is the end of the world and I am going to still be worried about my e-mail.
I must confess that I am spending an extra hour on the computer today. It is worth the gas to see what is up. The Gawker website is till up but it hasn’t been updated. Daily Kos isn’t running at all. The news websites are down. Wikipedia is down so I can’t look up Harry Potter spoilers or water filtrating tips.
Fuck, I try Something Awful and nothing. I tried Facebook and nothing. I try Pirate Bay and the site is running but no one has added anything. People are still seeding episodes of Dollhouse though. I bet Eliza Dushku pictures outlives all of us.
I don’t know why Blogger is still working if everyone is dead. Twitter is down which was disappointing. I was curious if people in Iran colored their avatars gray in support of our zombie outbreak.
Just for my own amusement, here are the top ten trending topics on Twitter if Twitter was still up.
RIP
#zombiessuck
Food
Bullets
Heads
Fuck
KanyeWest
Bitten
Hell
Romero
I can tell I am still exhausted because I laughed at my own jokes for way too long. I am going to log off and save some power.
Well that was a weird day yesterday. I drank all of the beer and for some fucked up reason, I slept in the bed upstairs. It was a lot warmer than I expected, but it looks like I piled about ten different blankets on top of me.
And I pooped in the upstairs bathroom. Sigh, I can’t flush it so I’ll have to come up with something.
I don’t know if it was the drinking or just the fact that I laid around on my ass, but my back feels so much better. I think I was just exhausted. I have been working pretty hard since the zombie parade went through and I need to pace myself. I keep thinking of the next thing that needs doing and I am only one fucking man.
Still need to finish burying Screamer but I will give it one more day. Today I am forcing myself to relax without drinking or feeling sorry for myself.
I can not believe I sent e-mails out to ex-girlfriends but it is not a bad idea in theory. I sent a message to everyone on my address book to see if anyone responds. Great, it is the end of the world and I am going to still be worried about my e-mail.
I must confess that I am spending an extra hour on the computer today. It is worth the gas to see what is up. The Gawker website is till up but it hasn’t been updated. Daily Kos isn’t running at all. The news websites are down. Wikipedia is down so I can’t look up Harry Potter spoilers or water filtrating tips.
Fuck, I try Something Awful and nothing. I tried Facebook and nothing. I try Pirate Bay and the site is running but no one has added anything. People are still seeding episodes of Dollhouse though. I bet Eliza Dushku pictures outlives all of us.
I don’t know why Blogger is still working if everyone is dead. Twitter is down which was disappointing. I was curious if people in Iran colored their avatars gray in support of our zombie outbreak.
Just for my own amusement, here are the top ten trending topics on Twitter if Twitter was still up.
RIP
#zombiessuck
Food
Bullets
Heads
Fuck
KanyeWest
Bitten
Hell
Romero
I can tell I am still exhausted because I laughed at my own jokes for way too long. I am going to log off and save some power.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
February 4th
This is Jimmy Varn and I am fucking drunk.
Man, I don’t often drink but at least beer tastes like something. Woot, I could get used to this.
Back is still shit. I stopped taking pills and started drinking beer. I figured it would conserve my medicine. Ha, and I wanted to get wasted.
Little Joe actually came to the door this morning. Freaked my ass out to hear him knocking. I couldn’t see him through the peephole but I saw him through the side window. Creepy little shit must have been worried about me. Or just hungry.
Been reading the porn magazines. Good times. Ladies with stockings, ladies taking off their stockings, ladies with shoes, ladies shaving legs and legs, legs, legs. Corbin loved his legs. I am more of a tit guy myself but I am starting to see their appeal. Leggy girls could run from zombies too lol.
Man I miss women.
Internet is crap but I tried to find some old friends. Classmates.com keep sending me spam to let me know there has been zero updates for my class. Pamela’s email bounced on me. I even tried emailing Wendy which is crazy cause she was such a mean spirited bitch but she didn’t answer. I hope she ain’t dead.
I miss people. I miss talking. I miss someone pretending to care if I was sick. I want my mom. I want a girlfriend to bring me hot food when my back hurts. I want someone to hug me and tell me it is going to get better.
Oh shit, I got to shit. Taking my gun to go shit outside. At least I have toilet paper for the shit. Shit this gross.
Logging off.
Man, I don’t often drink but at least beer tastes like something. Woot, I could get used to this.
Back is still shit. I stopped taking pills and started drinking beer. I figured it would conserve my medicine. Ha, and I wanted to get wasted.
Little Joe actually came to the door this morning. Freaked my ass out to hear him knocking. I couldn’t see him through the peephole but I saw him through the side window. Creepy little shit must have been worried about me. Or just hungry.
Been reading the porn magazines. Good times. Ladies with stockings, ladies taking off their stockings, ladies with shoes, ladies shaving legs and legs, legs, legs. Corbin loved his legs. I am more of a tit guy myself but I am starting to see their appeal. Leggy girls could run from zombies too lol.
Man I miss women.
Internet is crap but I tried to find some old friends. Classmates.com keep sending me spam to let me know there has been zero updates for my class. Pamela’s email bounced on me. I even tried emailing Wendy which is crazy cause she was such a mean spirited bitch but she didn’t answer. I hope she ain’t dead.
I miss people. I miss talking. I miss someone pretending to care if I was sick. I want my mom. I want a girlfriend to bring me hot food when my back hurts. I want someone to hug me and tell me it is going to get better.
Oh shit, I got to shit. Taking my gun to go shit outside. At least I have toilet paper for the shit. Shit this gross.
Logging off.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
February 3rd
This is Jimmy Varn, sore as fuck and still alive.
Oh fuck, I am in pain. I am grateful the Screamers stockpiled different medicines because I would have been fucked up without their neproxium sodium. I did something to my back and it is fucking sore. I hope it is just the normal pain you get after digging two graves and not something serious. It needs to get better.
Shit, I do not want to be killed by zombies because I move slower than they do.
So I dug a grave for the female Screamer in the same yard as Mr. Corbin. I turned it into my own little graveyard. I am not sure if that makes me more civilized or just fucking macabre. If I was smart, I would start digging my own grave so whomever lives here next can go ahead and bury me.
Screamer’s grave went faster because I figured three feet was good enough for her. It is also a much narrower grave than the one I made for Corbin. Since Screamer got eaten, there is a bit less of her to bury.
I was almost done digging the grave when stopped for the night. I came back home and had my can of dinner corn and green peas. Then I spent a leisurely evening reading a Clive Barker anthology. I chopped some wood up for the fire and went to sleep in front of it.
Next morning I tried to get up. Ha, I half rose before the pain sent me back down to the floor. Fuck. I have never hurt this bad. It is right at the base of my spine and I am praying that it is not something serious. Why did I have to be a fucking bookseller instead of a doctor?
So far I have taken a shitload of painkillers and I have been trying not to move. I’ve moved to the couch and I spent the morning trying not to move. I keep the fire going because you know, it is fucking cold, but getting up a challenge. Standing is ok and sitting is ok, but it is the moving in between that sucks.
And oh fuck did it hurt to go the stairs to the generator today. I came though. I wanted to blog. I wanted to tell you what was happening.
I also wanted to tell the world that I am here. I am still alive. Come get me already! I am in a bad way and I need help. Just look for the chimney smoke you cocksuckers!
It started to rain this morning and I debated dragging my hurt ass up and getting the barrel out there to collect water. I laid there on the couch, in pain, and felt this tremendous sense of failure that I wasn’t collecting any water.
I fucking cried because I couldn’t collect rainwater in a dirty barrel.
This is getting to be too much.
Save me.
Oh fuck, I am in pain. I am grateful the Screamers stockpiled different medicines because I would have been fucked up without their neproxium sodium. I did something to my back and it is fucking sore. I hope it is just the normal pain you get after digging two graves and not something serious. It needs to get better.
Shit, I do not want to be killed by zombies because I move slower than they do.
So I dug a grave for the female Screamer in the same yard as Mr. Corbin. I turned it into my own little graveyard. I am not sure if that makes me more civilized or just fucking macabre. If I was smart, I would start digging my own grave so whomever lives here next can go ahead and bury me.
Screamer’s grave went faster because I figured three feet was good enough for her. It is also a much narrower grave than the one I made for Corbin. Since Screamer got eaten, there is a bit less of her to bury.
I was almost done digging the grave when stopped for the night. I came back home and had my can of dinner corn and green peas. Then I spent a leisurely evening reading a Clive Barker anthology. I chopped some wood up for the fire and went to sleep in front of it.
Next morning I tried to get up. Ha, I half rose before the pain sent me back down to the floor. Fuck. I have never hurt this bad. It is right at the base of my spine and I am praying that it is not something serious. Why did I have to be a fucking bookseller instead of a doctor?
So far I have taken a shitload of painkillers and I have been trying not to move. I’ve moved to the couch and I spent the morning trying not to move. I keep the fire going because you know, it is fucking cold, but getting up a challenge. Standing is ok and sitting is ok, but it is the moving in between that sucks.
And oh fuck did it hurt to go the stairs to the generator today. I came though. I wanted to blog. I wanted to tell you what was happening.
I also wanted to tell the world that I am here. I am still alive. Come get me already! I am in a bad way and I need help. Just look for the chimney smoke you cocksuckers!
It started to rain this morning and I debated dragging my hurt ass up and getting the barrel out there to collect water. I laid there on the couch, in pain, and felt this tremendous sense of failure that I wasn’t collecting any water.
I fucking cried because I couldn’t collect rainwater in a dirty barrel.
This is getting to be too much.
Save me.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
February 2nd
This is Jimmy Varn and I am still alive.
I finished Corbin’s grave and dumped him in it. I sort of pushed him onto a dusty blanket and dragged him down the attics stairs and out of the house. The blanket got dumped with him. Covering him went a lot faster. To be honest, I just wanted to get that shit over with. The more time I spent burying him, the more time I spend thinking about his suicide.
I paused to say a few words and realized I had nothing. Me and God have not been on speaking terms. When I think of God, I think of the bearded bastard my Mom worships. I think of the crazy old man in the sky who gives people the urge to fuck whomever they want and then damns them to Hell for doing it. I think about what kind of sick bastard would running around. God wasn’t some strict parent, he was fucking Eli Roth and this world was one big horror fest for him to get his socks off.
So after I ruled out a religious service, I thanked Corbin for the porn and wished him some peace.
It was cold last night and keeping the fire going was hard with all the little pieces of wood I had. I decided to quit fucking around with collecting twigs and I took the ax to some of the houses near me. I chopped up a deck, some decorative wooden columns and a swing set for firewood. It was pretty fun to go all destructive on some of the houses. The living room is turning into a mess of outside wood that I have gathered.
The faucets stopped producing water. Just to be sure, I went out and tried the water in some of the other houses. They had a little in their systems and I made sure to collect it before they went dry. I made a list of the houses I have cleaned of water and which houses I need to go to. Just another fucking thing I need to gather.
I am worried about what the water means. I guess it means no one is keeping the water treatment going. It might also mean that a pipe burst somewhere and there is no one around to fix it. For an hour all I could think about was how I could go and fix it. These crazy plans kept coming to my mind about finding the water cleaning plant and figuring out the process. It was stupid, but at the same time I kept thinking about it. Desperation has me thinking all sorts of shit.
Tell you one thing; I really regret all those toilet flushes. Right now I am taking my business outside in my neighbor’s yard, and then covering it with a shovel of dirt. I definitely need a better solution. How the fuck does an outhouse work anyway? Is it just a hole in the ground?
In the mean time, I need to find a source of water. I am thinking about collecting rain water. I might just the barrel out in the yard and scoop rainwater out of it. The thought of bugs or birds taking a bath in it does not appeal to me in the least.
Oh well, time to enjoy my delicious hot meal of frozen pizza cooked over an open fire. Thank Sweet baby Jesus and his Pacifier of Gold that I have those chocolate chip cookies. Three cookies a day wipes away any crappy meal I make.
I finished Corbin’s grave and dumped him in it. I sort of pushed him onto a dusty blanket and dragged him down the attics stairs and out of the house. The blanket got dumped with him. Covering him went a lot faster. To be honest, I just wanted to get that shit over with. The more time I spent burying him, the more time I spend thinking about his suicide.
I paused to say a few words and realized I had nothing. Me and God have not been on speaking terms. When I think of God, I think of the bearded bastard my Mom worships. I think of the crazy old man in the sky who gives people the urge to fuck whomever they want and then damns them to Hell for doing it. I think about what kind of sick bastard would running around. God wasn’t some strict parent, he was fucking Eli Roth and this world was one big horror fest for him to get his socks off.
So after I ruled out a religious service, I thanked Corbin for the porn and wished him some peace.
It was cold last night and keeping the fire going was hard with all the little pieces of wood I had. I decided to quit fucking around with collecting twigs and I took the ax to some of the houses near me. I chopped up a deck, some decorative wooden columns and a swing set for firewood. It was pretty fun to go all destructive on some of the houses. The living room is turning into a mess of outside wood that I have gathered.
The faucets stopped producing water. Just to be sure, I went out and tried the water in some of the other houses. They had a little in their systems and I made sure to collect it before they went dry. I made a list of the houses I have cleaned of water and which houses I need to go to. Just another fucking thing I need to gather.
I am worried about what the water means. I guess it means no one is keeping the water treatment going. It might also mean that a pipe burst somewhere and there is no one around to fix it. For an hour all I could think about was how I could go and fix it. These crazy plans kept coming to my mind about finding the water cleaning plant and figuring out the process. It was stupid, but at the same time I kept thinking about it. Desperation has me thinking all sorts of shit.
Tell you one thing; I really regret all those toilet flushes. Right now I am taking my business outside in my neighbor’s yard, and then covering it with a shovel of dirt. I definitely need a better solution. How the fuck does an outhouse work anyway? Is it just a hole in the ground?
In the mean time, I need to find a source of water. I am thinking about collecting rain water. I might just the barrel out in the yard and scoop rainwater out of it. The thought of bugs or birds taking a bath in it does not appeal to me in the least.
Oh well, time to enjoy my delicious hot meal of frozen pizza cooked over an open fire. Thank Sweet baby Jesus and his Pacifier of Gold that I have those chocolate chip cookies. Three cookies a day wipes away any crappy meal I make.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)