Nobody could explain where the lights had arrived from, it all passed so quickly, but those that had the opportunity to speculate, they said they were something deriving from some alien place, a type of counterfeit prophet sent in one final deception of mankind.
“AARRRGGGHHHHH!” The ceiling fan had batted another big black bug onto my face. I brushed it off. “GODDAMN BUGS! I’m not dead yet!”
The bugs were everywhere, in the kitchen, in the shitter, in bed, like a biblical plague. And it was hot, so hot. I had been stretched out on my bed staring up at the ceiling for a while. Nothing but ceiling up there.
“Holy mother,” I said, “I’ve woken up in some flops but this is probably the worst of the lot”
Ratface made some unintelligible noise in response. “ZXVHGBSFUHOUUAJGABEYB”
“I hear ya Ratface, what the hell are we doing here?”
It’s been a while since I’ve written anything on here, so I want to apologise to all my die-hard fans (mum). I’ve been distracted, I guess. But I do have a story to tell, and here it is.
*WARNING* There might actually be some useful information contained in this post, somewhere (at last). Right or wrong, who the hell knows.
They’re trying to get in the bathroom although the bathroom light is obviously on. I’m sat on my bed in the dark waiting to use the shower. One bathroom between 11. The old man has just gotten up. He is trying to get into the bathroom although the light is obviously on. Now he is standing in the darkness confused. A girl has just walked into the room and she’s trying to get into the bathroom although the light is obviously on. The old man has walked out of the room. I follow him to clean my teeth in the kitchen. He is standing in the light confused. I leave him stood there. When I return to the room he is back tottering around in the dark in his pants. Boxhead finally finishes in the bathroom and I jump up and run in there before anyone else can. The door rattles although the light is obviously on. The shower is cold like outer space. I finish in the bathroom and walk out into the darkness and shuffle toward my bed. I climb in between the covers still wet. Sounds emanate from the bodies in the dark. The old man is snoring, a deep, gross, snotty wheezing from hell.
How the hell am I supposed to read my book?