Archive for July, 2006

The Calling

Posted in Puppet Stories with tags , , , , , , , , on July 31, 2006 by Dan Cheek

“The Calling”
By Dan CHEek
31 July 2006
© Dan Cheek 2006

The four Puppets, Bob, Doctor Sanity, Lost Cause, and Goblin, sat there on the couch, watching television.  Goblin controlled the remote because if he didn’t, he would probably eat the couch and the television.  So, like every other time Goblin was manning the remote, he kept it on the Discovery Channel.

The four of the sat there, transfixed while they watched a documentary on African hippos.  The phone rang.  All of the Puppets jumped.  Startled, Goblin swallowed a pillow.  “Fucking phone,” Doctor Sanity muttered angrily.

The phone rang again.  Goblin hopped up and was preparing to turn the telephone into small pieces of junk.  Bob stopped him.  “NO,” he said sternly to the rouge puppet, “Sam will have a stroke if we break another phone.”

Again, the telephone rang.  “It’s never going to stop,” Lost Cause screamed out.  “I…I just can’t take any more.  Goblin, eat me!”

“Shut up,” Sam quipped to Lost Cause.  Then he looked at Goblin.  “And you’re not eating him.”  Goblin stormed away in a rage.

“I’ll answer it,” Bob said.  He hopped up next to the phone, picked it off the receiver, then set it down next to him on the couch.  “Hello,” he asked hesitantly.

A cheery voice answered back.  “Hello.  My name is James and I’m calling on behalf of the Church of Modern Day Grace and Goodness.  Do you have a minute?”

Bob, Doctor Sanity, and Lost Cause looked at each other.  Goblin was in some other room breaking shit.  “I suppose.  I can’t talk too long, though.  Goblin is putting holes in the wall.  Fucking animal.”

“I’m sorry.  Is Goblin your dog,” the happy voice asked.

Bob shrugged.  “Something like that.  What do you want?”

“Well, sir,” the voice began, “Have you found the Lord?”

Again, the Puppets all looked at each other.  The question seemed to confuse them.  “Why,” Bob asked, “Did you guys loose him?”

The voice chuckled gently.  “No, nothing of the sort.  The Lord God is firmly in my heart.  I was wondering if he was in yours as well.”

Lost Cause gasped.  “He can get inside our hearts,” he asked in a panic.

“Sure,” the voice answered.  “And once Jesus is in your heart, he’s usually there to stay.”

Lost Cause screamed shrilly and bolted for the kitchen.  “Goblin!  HELP!  I HAVE THE JESUS DISEASE!”

“Um…” the voice on the phone sounded confused.  “Is everything all right, sir.”

“Oh, sure,” Bob answered, trying to cover for Lost Cause’s outburst.  “One of my kids is retarded.  He says the damnedest shit sometimes.  Anyway, you were saying?”

“I was just inquiring as to whether or not you’ve taken Jesus as your savior.”

Doctor Sanity walked away shaking his head.  “I hate surveys.  I’d better go check on Lost Cause.”

“Savior,” Bob asked slowly, “Is that like a hostage?  I don’t get your question.”

“Well,” the voice replied, “If you open the door to your heart, Jesus will come in.  Have you opened the door, sir?”

For a long minute Bob just sat there, staring at the phone next to him.  “You snort a lot of cocaine, don’t you,” he finally asked.

Again, the voice chuckled softly.  “I used to use recreational drugs quite heavily.  But then I found Jesus and once he was in my life, I realized my true calling.”

“Prank calling strangers,” Bob asked.

“No.  Spreading the gospel of Christ so that others may bask in his glory.  The word of God can set us all free of our chains.”

This time Bob chuckled.  “I don’t think I need any help getting free of chains, my man.  Sorry to disappoint.”

“Only the Lord God can remove the shackles of despair,” the voice answered.  “Without his help, you will be unable to throw off your chains.”

“Obviously,” Bob replied, “You’ve never met Goblin.  Sam, the guy I live with, wrapped Goblin in a whole role of duct tape one time.  Then he locked Goblin in a steel box and buried it five feet in the backyard.  Two hours later, Goblin was back.”

“Why did your room mate bury your dog,” the voice asked in a confused tone.

“The cable guy came over to fix the reception on the television and Goblin ate him.  Sam got REALLY pissed after that.”

A horror filled gasp came from the phone.  Then there was a click and the sound of a dial tone.  Bob shrugged and put the phone back on the receiver.  “Whatever.”

He plopped back down on the couch and started watching television again.  Doctor Sanity and Lost Cause soon joined him.  Doctor Sanity was grinning.  Lost Cause was charred and smoking.

“What the hell happened to you,” Bob asked Lost Cause.

“I was worried that my heart might be infected with that Jesus thing so the Doctor gave me a chemo-therapy treatment.”

Bob looked over at Doctor Sanity.  “I am quite certain we don’t have a chemo-therapy machine in this house.  Enlighten me.”

Doctor Sanity shrugged.  “I improvised.  I put him in the microwave for two minutes and set it on defrost.”

“Oh,” Bob replied.  Goblin finally rejoined the rest of the puppets.  He was covered in sawdust and was chewing on a piece of a chair leg.”

The sound of a key in the lock was heard and then the front door opened.  Sam was home.  He closed the door, took off his shoes, and went into the kitchen.  He came back a short while later with a beer and sat down next to the Puppets on the couch.

He took a sip of the beer and then looked at the Puppets.  Then he turned back to the television.  “I’m not going to ask about Goblin, just because I’ll find out later.  But why is Lost Cause smoldering?”

Bob answered, still watching the television.  “Oh.  We irradiated the Lord with the microwave to get him out of Lost Cause’s heart.”

Sam took another swig of beer.  He started to say something, but then stopped himself and just sat there shaking his head a few times.  After a while he said, “Oh.  Okay,” and left it at that.

Ozzfest 2006 Observations

Posted in Random Shit with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on July 27, 2006 by Dan Cheek

By Dan Cheek
27 July 2006

I attended Ozzfest yesterday with my girlfriend, Krissy, who also happened to get the tickets for us.  I wasn’t gonna go just because even though I really like many of the bands who were going to be playing, the venue they were going to be playing at (Montage Mountain in Scranton, PA) has a habit of fucking up big things like this.

But, since I was offered a ticket at no charge, I decided to go.  The headline bands were Hate Breed, Avenged Seven Fold, Disturbed, and System of a Down.  All of them put on quite a show and made the day worth while, especially Avenged Seven Fold and Disturbed.  It baffles as to how these bands have not conquered all that is by now.

The first act was a “surprise” appearance and short set by the band Dragonforce.  I don’t know why it was such a “surprise”.  Either that guy who was doing the announcing at the concert was on crack (maybe) or Dragonforce forgot that they announced on their website that they’d be part of Ozzfest 06.  Either way, nothing about their sound impressed me much.  A good band, but they probably should have been on the second stage in my opinion.

Then their were the girls.  The topless girls.  Several dozen fairly attractive girls had visited the “Decriminalize” booth.  These guys were promoting the legalization of weed and as part of a promotion, were painting girls’ chests in body paint, allowing them to walk around topless.  Very topless.

Obviously, this was a bit distracting.  Especially when one of these girls is sitting next to you on the lawn.  And it was hot yesterday.  Very hot.  So that paint started to run after awhile.  And then, again right in front of me, two of the topless girls started slam dancing and wrestling.  Oh my.

Keep in mind, my girlfriend is standing next to me though all of this.  At one point she looked at me and was like, “These girls who do this body painting stuff are obviously just sluts who are looking to find a new way to be slutty.  It’s gross.”  For relationship reasons, this is my official position on the subject as well.  Still, they were wrestling…

Which brings us to the topic of security.  If anyone in charge at Montage Mountain is reading this (and I doubt anyone in charge up there is capable of reading…), you need to fire all of your security people.  Complete fucking idiots, the whole lot.  Let me qualify that statement.

Shortly after Disturbed started their set, a large group of drunken tough guys decided to start a circle pit.  For those who don’t know, a circle pit is where a group of people form a circle, take off their shirts to show off their muscles, and then ram into each other, trying to knock someone down.  Combine Disturbed’s lyrics, the oppressive heat, and alcohol, and this QUICKLY turns into a local chapter of Fight Club.  This was happening about twenty five yards away from me.

I looked around to see where Security was.  About thirty of them were over by the bathrooms, apparently trying to keep the line for the outhouses moving smoothly.  I looked back to the circle.  Most of them were now bloodied, some were now armed with pieces of wood, and one had managed to pick up a large garbage can, presumably for the purpose of smashing someone.

Again, I looked to the bathrooms.  Security was threatening to Tazer the next person who cut in line.  I then turned back to the circle of destruction.  By now, there were people just laying there, bleeding.  I think some might have been dead, I don’t know.  Blood and hair were flying, there was loud screaming, and a priest even came by (I don’t know from where) and began administering last rights.

FINALY, a security monkey came over.  He tried to sort things out and was in the process of cooling things down and talking a guy into putting his shank away when he happened to look over at the bathrooms.  He must have saw someone cutting in the pee-line, because he started yelling and running over to backup the other thirty guys who were already there.  The fight eventually broke up when most of the warriors past out from blood loss.  But NO ONE managed cut in the bathroom line, Goddamnit.

But, my rants aside, it was a good time.  All the bands that were there were good and the headliners were great and amazing.  Even if your not a metal fan, I highly recommend attending at least one Ozzfest.  Especially if you’re an attractive female who enjoys walking around topless.  All for now.

-CHEek
dan@sockpuppetsfromhell.com

Curb Your Dog

Posted in Puppet Stories with tags , , , , , , on July 26, 2006 by Dan Cheek

CURB YOUR DOG
By Rob Sandman
26 July 2006
© Rob Sandman 2006

 

Sam enters the room shaking his head in disgust.  Lost Cause is sitting on the couch chuckling while watching Faces of Death.  Sam sits down on the couch next to him and lets out a big sigh.

Lost Cause:  So how was your walk Sam?

Sam:  Don’t ask.

Lost Cause:  What’s the matter?

Sam:  I don’t want to talk about it ok!

At this point Goblin tears ass across the room screaming like a hyena in heat, chuckling all the way into the other room.  Ironic??? We think not.

Sam:  God I hate him sometimes.

Lost Cause:  Hey…Hey…Hey, don’t use that name like that around here.  Listen, how about you tell me what happened over a nice cup of Windex.

Sam:  Whatever…

Lost Cause: (waiving a cup in front of Sam)  So….are you going to tell me what happened?

Sam:  Well, I wanted to go for a walk to get out of this place for a while and of course Goblin had to follow me.

Lost Cause:  What’s wrong with that, he keeps the mosquito’s away with that wonderful minty fresh breath of his.

Sam:  Minty fresh?  Is smells like the ass of a dead chicken.  Anyway…I can’t even go for a walk without you guys doing something wrong.  He decides that he’s going to shit on the neighbor’s lawn.

Lost Cause:  So?  It’s good fertilizer……and it’s free.

Sam:  You know I’m having enough problems with them as it is because of that stunt you guys pulled with the sheep.  They’re always looking at me with an accusing glare.  I swear they know something.

Lost Cause:  They don’t know anything, trust me.  Remember it was a poor unfortunate incident with a lawnmower. 

Sam:   Well of course they call the cops on me saying that my dog took a shit on their lawn and I left it.

Lost Cause:  Wow, they’re some blind, dumb-ass idiots.  I’ve never seen a dog with horns, have you?  You should make sure to bring that up at your court hearing.  If they’re found incompetent, any of their testimony can be deemed admissible.

Sam:  How the hell do you know that?

Lost Cause:  Law and Order

Sam looks at LC for a minute like he wants to ask him why he watches Law & Order but decides that it might not be a good idea.

Lost Cause:  You know we can help you with your court…

Sam:  (Cutting off Lost Cause before he could even finish his sentence) NO…I mean no thanks I’ll let my attorney take care of everything.  So as I was about to say, this female cop shows up and she ends up giving me a ticket for not cleaning up after him.

Lost Cause:  That’s it?  All you got was a ticket.  Why are you complaining?

Sam:  I’m not done yet.  Goblin decides that he doesn’t care much for her so he shreds the ticket.  But that’s okay, she thinks he’s cute so I start talking to her and managed to get her number.

Lost Cause looks at Sam with sheer bewilderment.

Lost Cause:  I still don’t get why you’re so upset, the last thing you had sex with was your hand.

(From the other room)

Bob:  It could be considered a threesome because he used two hands.

Sam:  (Yelling towards Bob)  Shut up Bob!  (Sam turns his attention back to LC) Things were going great up until that point, then Goblin decides to go AWOL.

Lost Cause:  And you expect any less?

Sam: For God’s sake he attacked her.  Then he fucking ate her.

Lost Cause: (cringing at the sound of that unholy name again) Well, I guess that’s something you’ll never know.

Sam:  Thanks, you know you fucking guys are killing me.  Is it your only mission in life to make me miserable and make my life a living hell?

(Bob and Dr. Sanity pop their heads out of different rooms)

Bob & Dr. Sanity:  (simultaneously) No, not the only one.  (They then go back about their business)

Sam:  That’s just fucking great.  What do you guys plan on next, tying me up and anally raping my mother while you pour hot wax on me and clamp my nipples with clothespins?

Lost Cause:  (coughing loudly and nervously while looking around the room for an answer to that) Umm…I’ve got to go do laundry.

Lost Cause darts for the door.

Sam:  Hey, get back here!

 

Horrible Squirrel Ball of Doom

Posted in Puppet Stories with tags , , , , , , , , on July 21, 2006 by Dan Cheek

“Horrible Squirrel Ball of Doom”
By Dan Cheek
21 July 2006
© Dan Cheek 2006

Sam sat there at the kitchen table, writing out checks to pay this week’s battery of bills.  It was times like these, little moments really, that Sam enjoyed the most.  During times like these, Sam could pretend that he lived a normal life, that everything was just hunkey-dorey.  Moments like these came very far and few between.

“Sam, I made something for you,” Doctor Sanity announced from behind him.  Sam didn’t want to turn around.  He knew that Doctor Sanity, the mad genius of the Sock Puppets, was probably holding something horrible.  The last time Sanity had told Sam that he had made something for him, it turned out that the Doctor had found a way to make an electric toothbrush out of a chainsaw and an old broom.  Not only did it remove plaque, it could also cut through most walls.  Like most of his other inventions, Sam buried it in the backyard.

“Sam, look, look at what I’ve done,” Doctor Sanity said, now standing right along side his chair.  Sam closed his eyes, took a deep breath, muttered an old curse he had learned from his grandfather, and then exhaled.  He opened his eyes and looked down.  Doctor Sanity was holding….a basketball.

Sam’s left eye twitched noticeably.  He forced himself to blink and then to breath.  “You invented a basketball?”

Doctor Sanity smiled.  “Not quite, Sam.  I’ve invented an inescapable prison for that damn squirrel that’s been running amok.”

It took a few seconds for Sam to catch up with what Doctor Sanity was saying.  “You think that basketball,” Sam said slowly, “Is going to hold a squirrel?”

Doctor Sanity nodded.  “And not just any squirrel, Sam,” he said in a cheery voice, “That rogue villain of a rodent that’s been using our trees like his own personal jungle-gym.  I’ve found a way to contain his madness.”

“So let me get this straight,” Sam said, “You’ve decided that you’re going to put a squirrel inside that basketball and you’re going to do this because you think the squirrel is insane and needs to be stopped.”

Doctor Sanity nodded again.  “Absolutely.  Only you should stop speaking hypothetically.  I’ve already captured the beast.”  He glanced over at the basketball, sitting beside him.

The noise that came out of Sam was a combination hiss and scream.  He recoiled in shock.  “Are you saying you’ve already put the squirrel into that ball,” Sam asked, not really wanting to know.

“Indeed,” Doctor Sanity said proudly, “That son of a bitch is trapped in here but something good.”

Sam went a little pale as a few more years were removed from his lifespan.  “How, exactly,” he said slowly, “Did you go about capturing a squirrel and then trapping him inside of that ball?”

“Good question,” Doctor Sanity answered, “It wasn’t easy.  And the garbage man was horribly maimed in the process.  We should probably send him a card.”

Sam’s shoulders dropped a little.  “Why did you maim the garbage man and what did you do to him?”

“The answer to both those questions will upset you, Sam,” the Doctor announced.  “You’ll probably sleep better at night not knowing.  Just know that it was an unfortunate, yet entirely preventable tragedy that everyone involved feels horribly about.”

“And what should the card say that you think we should get him,” Sam asked.  At this point, most of his body was numb and he could feel the sides of his head throbbing.

“I’m not sure, Sam,” Sanity said as he stood there thinking about it, “I’m not very poetic or sentimental, but how about, ‘Sorry about your legs.  We’ll mail them to you once we find them.’  Something like that.”  He looked up at Sam.

Sam was sitting there, holding his head in his hands with both eyes closed.  In his mind, he was trying to block it all out.  The squirrel, the crazy little Sock Puppet who he was talking to, and the garbage man’s legs.  At all costs, Sam didn’t want to think about any of that.

“And whatever you do,” Doctor Sanity continued, “Never, not even ever, bounce the ball more than once.”

“Why,” Sam asked, still holding his head.

“Because the explosives arm on the first bounce and go off on the second.”

Sam looked over at Doctor Sanity and the basketball.  Sweat was pouring down his face.  “Explosives?”

“Yup,” Doctor Sanity said proudly, “It’s what makes the prison so effective.  If any of his little squirrel friends try to come and spring him free, they’ll no doubt activate the explosive trigger.  BWHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

“Oh Dear God,” Sam muttered.  “Doc, get away from the ball.  Come sit with me out on the couch.  I need to think.”

“Okay, I like thinking,” Sanity said as he followed Sam out into the living room.  Sam plopped down on the couch and Doctor Sanity hopped up along side him.

“Is there anyway to disarm it,” Sam asked nervously.

“Nope.  Why would you want to disarm explosives.  That’s like taking the blades off a lawnmower.  You WANT the explosives to explode.”

The sweat coming off Sam’s head now was a steady river.  “What are our options,” Sam asked in a whisper.

“I could paint the ball green.  That would be neat, eh?”

Sam stopped breathing and shook his head.  “Stop talking.”

“Cool,” Lost Cause called out, “A new basketball!”  He was in the kitchen.

Sam and Doctor Sanity both looked at each other in terror.  “Uh oh,” was all that the mad Doctor could say.

They heard the ball bounce once.  “Goblin is gonna love this!”  The ball bounced again.  Then the windows blew out and thick, black smoke came billowing out of the kitchen.  The shockwave knocked both Doctor Sanity and Sam off of the couch.

From the kitchen, Lost Cause managed to eek out two pain-filled sentences.  “Sam, we need to talk.  Bring the Windex.”

The Julius Dispute

Posted in Random Shit with tags , , , , , , on July 17, 2006 by Dan Cheek

July 17, 2006
Rob Bresser
777 North Western St
Sometown PA 17652

Dear Sir,

Perhaps you remember me?  About three weeks ago I purchased a dog from you as a gift for my girlfriend.  Your add stated that the dog for sale was a Lhasa apso, very friendly and loving, and had all its shots.  I hate to be so rude and call you a liar, but I have serious doubts as to the validity of said advertisement.  In fact, I have my doubts that the creature you sold me is even a dog at all (with the exception that it continually humps my leg.)

About five days after I gave the creature (you’ll note I no longer refer to it as a dog) it began to act strangely toward me.  Whenever my girlfriend left me alone with the dog, it would stare at me blankly until she returned; whether that time frame was a minute to go to the bathroom or several hours to go the store didn’t seem to matter.  This didn’t strike me as too odd at first, although now, in retrospect I am realizing the oddity this situation actually presented.  But then (about a week and a half ago), it began growling at me while starring.  OK… not too strange you say, dogs growl.  However, the sounds this creature would produce when growling could not possibly come from a dog; nor any other earthly mammal I know of, for that matter.

Please do not think poorly of me when I tell you what happened next.  Believe me, I know how crazy it sounds…But I SWARE that the other day, during one of its typical growling fits, the creature spoke.  Not so much words…they were more guttural.  Like combining near comprehensible sounds made by growling and snarling (kind of like Klingon or German).  It honestly sounded like “I am Julius (pronounced hoo-LEE-ous) the latino party sheep, obey me.”  You have no concept of just how terrifying such a happenstance can be.  I have not slept for three days.

I think I may have to ask for my money back.  If that is unacceptable to you, I understand.  But at the very least, please take the creature back.  My efforts to contact you by phone have resulted in either belching in my ear or dead space followed by a chuckle and then a dial tone.

Desperately Yours,

 

Rob Bresser

P.S.  I have enclosed a photo of the creature during one of its most recent starring fits as evidence of my intact sanity.  This was taken while my girlfriend was sleeping.  Please take note of the glowing eyes.  They actually do that; it’s not from the flash.


———————————————————————————————–

 

Dear Rob,

Too fucking bad.  You brought the thing, it’s your problem now.  In regards to my add:  Every word is true.  It is a dog (in form), it’s had its shots (or so it told me), and it is friendly and loving; to your girlfriend.  It just hates you… I think I see why.  As for the humping, well, you heard it for yourself: he’s latino.  They have a lot of love to share.  Now, I must ask you to stop harassing me and to keep your damn pictures to your fucking self.  I have no desire to see that thing again.  As for trying to call me, I have caller ID, retard.  Should you continue to try to contact me in any form, please keep in mind:  I possess far worse animals and will not hesitate to drop them at your front door.  Trust me on this; you DO NOT want a visit from the parrot.

Very sincerely yours,

Dan Cheek

P.S.  I’ve enclosed a tube of K-Y Jelly.  It will come in handy very soon.  You’ll understand.

 

A Nice, Warm Glass of Penzoil

Posted in Puppet Stories with tags , , , , , , on July 15, 2006 by Dan Cheek

A Nice, Warm Mug of Penzoil
By Dan CHEek
15 July 2006
© Dan Cheek 2006

 
Lost Cause:  Sam.  Sam, wake up.  Please, Sam, wake up.

Sam (turning on the light next to his bed): What?  What time is it?

Lost Cause:  I don’t know, Sam.  It’s late.  Not that it matters.  Soon, everything will be over.

Sam: Oh.  It’s you, LC.  What is it now?  If this is about Goblin and his gas again, I don’t even want to talk about it.

Lost Cause:  No, Sam.  It’s worse.  Much, much worse.  Sam, the cable is out.  It’s been out for almost an hour now.

Sam: LC, look, it’s like three in the morning.  I really don’t give a shit about the cable being out right now.  Read a book or something.

Lost Cause:  Sam, we both know I can’t read and that written language scares me.  But Sam, I need you to do something for me.

Sam:  LC, I’m not killing myself.  Now go away.

Lost Cause:  You poor thing, you’re in shock.  Here….drink this mug of motor oil I’ve prepared for you.

Sam:  Where…where did you get a mug of motor oil?  I don’t have a car.

Lost Cause:  I found it.  Anyway, just drink it.  It will put your mind at rest.  I’ll be right behind you.  Then the cable can never hurt us again.

Sam:  First off, I’m not drinking that.  Second, if you spill a drop of that on my bed…

Lost Cause:  You’ll slit your wrists in a fit of angst?

Sam: No, I’ll burn you like a witch.  And third, if I were to agree to your little “suicide party” thing, I sure as hell wouldn’t be the first one to drink the Kool-Aid.

Lost Cause:  It’s not Kool-Aid, Sam.  It’s Penzoil.  Now drink deeply.

Sam (turning off the light):  Get out of my room.  Go talk to Bob.  Maybe he wants to die.

Lost Cause:  Bob’s painting the sidewalk.

Sam: HE’S WHAT?!?!?!?

Lost Cause:  You sound angry.  When I get angry, I often fantasize about the sweet bliss of death.  Drink the Penzoil, Sam.

Sam:  Go away.  Please….just go away.

Lost Cause:  I’ll go, Sam.  But I’m leaving the mug of oil here in case you change your mind.  Good night, Sam.

Sam: Good night, LC.  Tell Bob to stop painting the sidewalk.

Just Another Day…

Posted in Puppet Stories with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on July 14, 2006 by Dan Cheek

“Just Another Day”
By Dan Cheek
14 July 2006
© Dan Cheek 2006

Just Another Day

Dear Diary, today I learned that no one can hear you scream over the sound of fire alarms, screaming drunks, and exploding bottles of whiskey. But I don’t want to talk about my work right now. Despite my best efforts, I wasn’t able to get hit by a car as I walked home and so I’ll have to go in tomorrow. Life is shit.

Anyway, on to more interesting topics. When I woke up this morning, I came into the living room and found all of the Sock Puppets sitting innocently on the couch. This, as you might imagine, scared the pee out of me and I immediately began my search for a body. I never found one but during my search, I did notice that they attached a timing device to the toilet. It’s counting down and will reach zero by the end of the week. I’m not sure how I feel about that.

Remembering the carnage that ensued after my last attempt to disarm one of their, um, projects, I decided to just leave the damn thing there. Honestly, I don’t even care anymore. I’m trying to keep hope alive that maybe it’s just some kind of alarm clock or something, but when I asked them about it they referred to it as the “Doomsday Flush”. Doctor Sanity then began mumbling something about the evil people who work at the sewer authority and how vengeance will finally be served. I really, really hope it’s just an alarm clock.

During dinner, I had my usual conversation with Lost Cause. You know, the one where he tries to convince me of the nutritional value of Windex Milk. He explained to me that not only does it contain calcium, but it is also very effective at removing dead bugs from a windshield. I asked him about his efforts to convince the makers of Windex to introduce a chocolate flavor. He said he didn’t want to talk about it and then walked away. I think I heard him crying as he left.

After dinner, a pair of Jehovah’s Witnesses came to the door while I was watching television. Luckily, Goblin answered the door and ate one of them. The other one, a middle aged woman, was quite brave and did her best to save her partner. She put up an amazing fight, but in the end, lost an arm and both her legs. She managed to drag herself into the closet and found a way to brace the door closed. Those Witnesses are so annoying, I swear. Goblin’s been ramming the closet door for a good three hours straight now, so imagine it will all be over soon. I’ll pick up a new door tomorrow.

I’m very tired now and will end this here. Tomorrow will be here in a few hours. Wish me luck.

-Sam