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Jonathon heads for home.


I know what you’re thinking.   And fuck you.   It’s not soft.   It’s smart.   Don’t start attributing any lame human emotional bullshit to me.   The kid hadn’t seen me, couldn’t identify me, and believe me – disposing successfully of a dead body is far harder than letting a live one go.   I should know.   And right at that moment I didn’t have the time or energy or inclination to deal with noise and mess and fuss and effort.   Mitchell the fish boy will come to, and flap off home – bit cold and hungry, but fine.   There’s every chance it will be considered some prank, not an actual abduction, and there’s no way it’s coming back to me, anyhow.   Which is the way I fucking like it.

I consider the entire situation on the way back to my place.   Assess my tidying up efforts after the – messy – weekend.   Mitchell problem – solved.   Further and more focussed police attention will be likely as the result of my stupid faux pas of eating the neighbours.   I need to clean up the house better, get ‘Eddie’ to give a phone interview so they don’t come looking for him, and lie low for a while.   Kane is pissed off with me because I blew him off to hang out with Py.   That’s going to make things awkward at school, so I’d better think of some way to make it up to him.   Jenna saw me post-party this morning, and might have been wondering exactly what that was all around my mouth still.   Then again, she’s a pathetic little moron, and she probably doesn’t even have enough brain cells to knock together over it.   I’ll quiz her tomorrow.  

Oh yeah.   And I should look for the Cat.

I get home finally, check out the low-level activity next door, take down the plastic in the upstairs bedroom, hunt around uselessly for the Cat, give up, and finally switch on the computer.   It’s been a fucking hellish day – and not in a good way.   I’m beyond exhausted and still hung over.   I need to chill.


And that’s when I find Py didn’t leave without a word after all.   You can read his little “Intervention” on here for yourself – hell, you probably read it before I did.

Py – you fucking, FUCKING bastard.




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