That fly again. 2:15am.That does it. The....hunt.....is.....on.
I got it. Dead. Heh-heh. I should hang it or dismember it to make example of it to the other members of fly nation.
I'm now a nocturnal creature. 3am. Just in time for Magnum, PI. T.C. and Rick are good friends for Thomas. Is Higgins Robin Masters? 4am. Flip channels. Soccer game. Soccer fans are insane. Just get a timer clock instead of depending on one zealot with a watch already. Tradition my ass. Then again, most the of the world is used to caste systems. A clock would be, well, too democratic....too American! We can't have that, eh?
Joe DiMaggio apparently suffered from insomnia. Or maybe he didn't trust that skank.
5am time to try and sleep. What a lovely sight that bed is. In position, close eyes and.......what's that sound? Forget it. It's probably nothing. BANG! CRACK! Well, it is -25c outside....is dam co owside....
The wood is cracking. Or is it? Imagine if someone walks in and bashes my head in? Maybe I should bring a hockey stick next to me. I place it next to me like it's my wife. Lovely. The blade just needs hair. I'm fricken howling to myself. She hears NOTHING. Look at her. Out like a brick. Out like....can't think of any more. The more I try and relax the more my mind races. Who, what ,where, how, oh God how! Zero hours sleep. 6am. Click!
Dawn of the dead living.
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