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Actually thought about what to say here today.   Which is pretty fucking unusual for me.   Usually I just chime in, and spill guts literally or literarily with the same reckless abandon.

Could therefore talk about Kane coming over yesterday, and us playing God of War III with the cacophony of surround sound until 3am – then staying up anyway until he could catch the first train home.

Could talk about his gossip from my old – well – hunting ground.   Good ol’ fish boy Mitch getting his photo in the local paper after the convenience store where he works weekends was held up – by ‘armed youths’ brandishing cooking utensils.   [I fucking kid you not.   ‘Spatula Attack’, was the headline…)   And that kid Jenna running away from home, though no-one knows why.   And rumors Carly went to Hollywood to try her luck, and someone saying they’d seen her in the crowd on some red carpet footage for something.   Not bloody likely, eh…?

Could talk about the ‘Operation Eddie‘ plan – if my school want me to provide my fictional guardian for them, I’m going to have to do something pretty drastic, right?

Could talk about the mystery text the other week – whatever the fuck that was about.


But when it comes down to the final siren? – I just don’t feel like talking.  

It’s not that I’ve got anything against the sound of my own voice, mind.

It’s just – well, listen.  


Say you’re walking along kinda late one night.   You’re thinking about what a long day that was at work, and what you’ll have for dinner when you get home, and what’s on television after…

Then you stop walking.

Why?   There’s no sound.   You can’t see anyone.  

It’s just – there’s this eerie, rarified, anticipatory silence all of a sudden.   It’s the sound of someone not breathing, the tremor of life hanging in the balance, the moment of waiting before the right moment.


And then I kill you.


See – your sixth sense is never that you see dead people.

It’s that you hear Death coming for you.


 And it’s not just you, okay?   Because around me, right now?

Things seem too fucking quiet…





  1. Or maybe you’re paranoid. Maybe your sanity is slipping. Now that would be scary. Keep your eye on the Cat though; I’m guessing undead cats are exceptionally talented when it comes to sensing impending doom.

  2. The quiet calm before the shit storm. Watch out my friend, though I imagine you’d be used to that by now..

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