LITTLE BASTARD
Dear readers and true fans, you will be happy to know that I, Phat Cheops, have made Internet history. I have become half of the world's first Internet parenting team. My Virtual Child, known as Dementio Wulf Cheops-Kunkle, is currently 3 years old, and ages 1 year per month. His mother Kathy and I are friends over ICQ; I will try to put up pix of her soon. The boy is half-white (me), half-Filipino (Kathy), will have a tested IQ of over 170, and is absolutely physically beautiful and charming to everyone who meets him. Kathy and I have a mission: we will mold little Dementio into the worst sociopath we possibly can. His every day of life will be alternately those of breathtaking highs and soul-shattering lows. He will never be given respect for life; he will be raised to fear God as an unpredictable shadow; he will be constantly disciplined and rewarded at random; his successes will be met with dismissal and his failures will be met with bitter reprisals. He will own each pet for exactly 3 years, and then will be forced to kill it.
NO DISCERNIBLE PHYSICAL HARM MAY COME TO DEMENTIO. Kathy and I have agreed that, while the occasional back-handed slap and brain-rattling shake would be acceptable, we shall not harm the boy physically in any noticable way (he is, of course, free to stumble into harm by himself). This will keep Kathy and I one step ahead of the Child Welfare folks. Of course, the way we'll be raising him, other children will inflict vast injuries upon him anyway. Don't feel too bad: the boy could very well kill Kathy and I in our sleep as soon as he reaches puberty.We just don't know. At first, my instinct as a bad parent was to constantly stage epic screaming, abusive fights with Kathy, but then I realized a far better approach. Kathy and I will be completely in love throughout the duration of the expirement: we will be affectionate, loving, and supportive... of one another. This way, the boy learns that he has no one parent he can turn to in times of crisis; no subtle tactics he can use would turn us against one another, and no force in the world could split us up, thereby reducing the amount of "expirementation" done on him by half. No, little Dementio will always think of his parents as not two people, but as one overshadowing, powerful force, directing every last facet of his life and crushing his dreams of escape at every turn.
What's the point of this expirement? Well, we wanna see what'll happen. Kathy and I have no greater outline of his life, and we're both creative people, so we roll with what the other comes up with. It's like role-playing improv, sort of. We're making a statement, too: I bet the little spaz turns out better than most of my generation. At least we're TRYING to be bad parents. (By the way: Kathy and I both like our parents. It's YOURS we probably hate.)
THE LITTLE BASTARD CHILD-REARING JOURNAL
1-28:
Dementio's 3rd birthday (we're starting him off at 3. Infants, while fun to be mean to, are not very interesting). To celebrate, he recieved his very first pack of razors. He and his mother spent the day dismembering birds. A good time was had by all.
1-30:
I took Dementio to the zoo; he loved it, until I put him in with the python. Now, keep in mind, pythons only eat once every several months, and I made sure the python had been fed the previous week. However, Dementio sure didn't know! You should have seen him turn white and piss himself when it crawled all over him. After about twenty minutes of that, I took him home. At bedtime, I hid a rubber snake in his sheets. His mother hoped he would attack it with his new razors; alas, this was not the case. He merely screamed for us (of course, we didn't answer), pissed himself again, and huddled in the corner of his room the rest of the night. I can only pray we have the first in a long line of phobias!
2-1:
I took him websurfing and showed him joecartoon.com; we then spent the rest of the day catching and blending frogs. He had a great time. Took some pictures of him covered in frog goop to put in the Christmas cards.
2-4:
Kathy took him to the park to try out his new BB gun. Little guy's got an excellent eye; he killed many a squirrel and bird before he shot down the beehive. Inquisitive little fellow; had to go over and investigate every little thing he shot. He should be out of the hospital by Wednesday.
2-7:
Picked up Dementio from the hospital: his swelling has gone down remarkably, and he's no longer sticking to his clothes. He was keeping down solid foods, too... at least, until I showed him "IT". You all know "IT": the Stephen King TV movie that defied all odds and turned out pretty scary (despite starring both John Ritter AND Harry Anderson), featuring Tim Curry as the inimitable Pennywise, the devil clown. After Dementio sat through all 4 hours of that (and only cried 5 times), it was time for bed in his newly-re-wallpapered room. The pattern: clowns holding red balloons.
2-8:
Woke Dementio with a gentle whisper in his ear: "We all float down here, little boy." After an hour-long crying spell, we went to Kathy's where I dropped him off for the day, and I was off to work at... um... the office. She took him swimming. It couldn't have happened better: it was about 40 degrees, and the water was ice cold (Kathy vouched for that). At first, he panicked a little in the water, but REALLY went apeshit when Kathy innocently said, "You won't sink! We all float in here, Dementio!" She knows CPR, so don't worry, the little tyke was just fine. We took him to the doctor, and he did NOT contract pneumonia or even a cold! Although Kathy caught one. Tough little guy!
2-9:
You know, it just shows how little you really know about parenting when your child stops breathing two days in a row. I had forgotten that I had told Kathy I'd take care of him today while she was sick. Problem is, I forgot about it AFTER I picked him up from pre-pre-school (it's NEVER too early to start him worrying about conforming). He rides in the trunk, because I don't want him to think that I'm proud enough of him that I would allow him to be seen with me. So he stayed in there for the better part of six hours until finally I realized what a dingbat I was being. Once I got him breathing again, I decided to take it easy on him and let him go try and get some sleep in his clown-intensive room. I think he deserves it.
2-10:
As a reward for his good behavior (and for being such a sport about us dangling him so near death 2 days in a row), Kathy and I took Dementio to a club: Shock. It's a college-type dance club in downtown. Unfortunately, he was underage, so we had to tie him to a pole outside. It almost got down to freezing, especially when the drizzle set in, but Kathy and I were having too much fun dancing to notice. When we finally left around 2 AM, Dementio was there, a little damp and blue in the lips, but happily talking baby talk to a drunk who had long since passed out in his own vomit (Dementio's first word, by the way, was "garrot"). Apparently, he really enjoyed watching the drunks stagger out and attempt to go home, with varying degrees of success. So we went home, and the little guy passed out in the car. Who thought parenting could be this much fun!
2-12:
Kathy had a family emergency and had to go back to Japan for a few weeks, so that's left me alone with little Dementio! We've been playing Hide and Seek the last few days, and it's a lot fun! Well, OK, I'VE been playing Hide and Seek. And a few big, burly guys I paid $50 each. He has no idea. You should see the look on his face when me (or Karl, Hank, or Moose) leaps out at him from the dark! The mask of terror he wears is just adorable. We'll keep playing til tomorrow, then I gotta think up something special for Valentine's Day!
2-14:
Well, I told him alllll about St. Valentine, and how he was crucified, and resurrected three days later to spread wishes of love, colored eggs, and marshmallow chicks across the land. After that enchanting tale, I regaled him with the story of Snow White, except in my version, the poison in still on Snow White's lips when the Prince kisses her, and he dies TOO! Dementio liked that version better, and so I told him the story of Sleeping Beauty, except in the end instead of waking the princess up, the Prince just coughs up blood on her right before the kiss and dies. He laughed hard at that. My little guy.
2-15:
Well, I'll be damned if I'm going to spend another two weeks alone with this little shit, so it's off to camp! He's off to Camp Cullen, a summer camp, mostly closed in the dead of winter, but I hired a counselor just for the job! I bet it'll be great for him. Like I care.
2-28:
Dementio got back today, just in time to celebrate his 4th birthday with his mother and I (she got back yesterday). We went to Chuck E. Cheese's, which soon became Chuck A. Skee-ball At The Skulls of Other Unsuspecting Children. Dementio was pretty good at this game, but his targets had to be fairly close by, which wound up being quite awkward. After we lost the police helicopter by switching cars in an airport parking garage, we returned to the house, where I found out I won the Cruel Site of the Day award for the Luau! We were thrilled! We decided to play a game of Brutal Honesty: we took Dementio for a walk, and every time we passed someone, he had to shout their worst physical trait at them. Boy, he REALLY liked this game. We pretended to apologize for him and everything, but when no one was looking, we'd give him Reese's Peanut Butter Cups as rewards. The best one was a guy who lived down the street from us. He has severe acne. Dementio shouted "You got pizzaface!" at him, and the guy just started bawling. It was fantastic. What a great birthday.
3-1:
Kathy and I snuck out of the house in the dead of night (after unplugging the stove and locking away all the poisons, of course). We returned at midnight to find Dementio an emotional wreck. He ran to us and clung to us like we were made of flypaper. We were more or less indifferent, but allowed him to do so. He'd moved a chair up to the pantry and fed himself on Corn Pops all day, it turned out. The house was in good repair; all the doors were opened after he'd obviously been looking for us. Kathy and I had spent the day at the beach; at least WE had had an uneventful day! Dementio begged to sleep with us, but we refused.
3-2:
Dementio woke us up this morning to make sure we were there. Clever little guy. I let him skip school today to make up for all the sleep he apparently lost last night, and to go ahead and start programming him with a healthy disrespect for the institution. Later, he and Kathy went to Toys 'R' Us, and got him almost every toy he asked for, especially the violent ones. He has some toy guns that look more realistic than some real ones I've seen! Later before bedtime, he and I played "Columbine".
3-3:
Today was Creative Day: I told Dementio the stories of Snow White and Sleeping Beauty again, and then we sat down and I told him to tell me how to write a story like them. He was all too happy to oblige: his story is as follows. Prince Charming was riding through the forest one day, when Queen Evilly, who could turn into a bee, stopped him and pointed at a Princess, who was tied up outside a dragon's cave, and shouted "Ha ha! Bet you can't rescue her!" So of course, Prince Charming rides to her rescue, but the dragon turns out to really be a Tyrannosaurus Rex, and while they're fighting, the Queen turns into a bee and stings him, and while he's distracted the T-Rex bites him in half. Then the Queen unties the Princess and they laugh, because they were secretly in it together. God, I love this kid. WHAT, OH WHAT, CAN POSSIBLY HAPPEN NEXT?!?! Updated weekly!
3-5:
Today Kathy took Dementio to the Museum of Fine Arts to see the Star Wars exhibit. He loves Star Wars, but for some reason Yoda terrifies him. Kathy told him there was no reason to be afraid: the robot Yoda only comes to life at night to kill BAD children. Dementio was not comforted; when Kathy wasn't looking, he slipped away and used a robot Boba Fett's blaster (a surprisingly heavy hunk of plastic) to pound away at the animatronic Yoda. Kathy and Dementio again managed to get away, but it was was on the news. The robot Yoda was rendered inoperable. They were acting like it was some big tragedy, but shit, it's not like they used robots in the last movie anyway. Fuckin' ILM.
3-6:
Dementio was punished today for his sloppy work on the robot Yoda yesterday (he must have gone at it in front of at least a hundred witnesses!). We played Dodge Fruit, which is basically Kathy and I hurling different fruits at him in the backyard. The oranges really made some nasty welts, until we wised up and started peeling them first. Then we left him in his room the rest of the day to think about what he did. We're still not sure he fully comprehends what he did wrong, which is fine; befuddlement will keep him on his toes.
3-7:
The neighborhood kids were having a water-gun fight outside, and Dementio wanted to join in. So, we got his little water pistol, and were ready to go outside when he tapped on my hand. I looked down at him and he said, with the most adorable little evil grin, "Daddy, wouldn't it be funny if we put vinegar in my gun?" So we did. I swear, I love this kid. He was really smooth about it, too; he didn't spray anyone too much, just enough so that, by the time it was all over, everyone smelled like vinegar. The neighborhood kids naturally blamed it on the least popular kid and beat the shit out of him; Dementio, Kathy, and I watched from the front porch and laughed and laughed.
3-9:
Kathy and I took Dementio to K-Mart, and then ditched him. We put on disguises and followed him at a distance, keeping our eye out for anyone suspicious looking... which is everyone, if you're familiar with the terrifying panorama of geneological mishaps that is K-Mart. I swear to God, some of the most fucked-up people in the entire world shop there every day, people ugly as sin and dumber than bags of hair. Inbred cornfucks with their DNA helixes coiled up like knotted telephone cords. It was a perfect nightmare world for Dementio to find himself alone in; every single person who offered him help scared the shit out of him. Finally, when the store manager was on the phone with the cops to come pick him up, Kathy and I discreetly grabbed him and left. We didn't reveal it was us until we were at the van. Dementio just stared straight ahead and whimpered the entire ride home, but at least he didn't seize up and drool like a lot of shock victims.
3-10:
Full recovery! This kid's resilient. As a reward, we took him to a pet shop and got him a goldfish, which he aptly named Fishy. He spent the better part of the day with the fish, then he and I got his toy guns out and played "Occupied Holy Lands" for a bit: Kathy was the innocent bystander, and was hence the only one ever "shot". One thing for Kathy: she sure can die a realistic death! When she hid some ketchup in her mouth and hacked it up all over the floor, Dementio laughed even harder than he did during the ceramic penis scene in "Clockwork Orange", which we watched Thursday.
3-11:
Played "Survivor", in which Dementio had to hunt down and kill the "baby pig", in this case the neighbor's lhasha apso. He only had a primitive Ginsu knife with which to work, but the little fella hunted li'l ol' Spunky down and eviscerated him quicker than you can say "Percival Eloisias McGillicutty". Dementio was greatly amused, and Kathy and I gave him a lecture on why bragging to his friends at school would be BAD. We expect to be giving him this lecture a lot.
3-12 thru 3-17:
Came back from vacation in Arizona just in time to celebrate St. Patrick's Day! I told Dementio the story of St. Patrick, a hard-drinkin', hard-livin', hard-brawlin', soft-livered fellow who helped the Irish Christians escape persecution from Mexicans in 1962 before dying in 1969 of the combined effects of cirrhosis of the liver, a heroin overdoes, and the clap. The little guy loves history.
3-18:
We took Dementio to a day care, to monitor our progress so far. He was with kids aged 2 to 8 (Serious question: how dedicated of a parent are you if you're willing to hand over your kid as soon as it turns 2? Maybe parenting wasn't for you, pal...) and so was in a good, strong position in the middle. When we talked to the kids later, we found out that at first, a 6-year-old bully named Connor (in 10 years, we're gonna have 300 million kids named "Connor" and "Tyler" applying for driver's licenses) tried to push him around, but Dementio bit him on the neck. Of course, he's not strong enough to draw blood, but it scared the shit out of Connor (and a few staff members, as well) and raised a nasty purple, tooth-shaped welt. The kids, from then on, treated Dementio with respect, and he got along with them just fine, and even had a few kids hanging on his every word, giving up their turns at the Nintendo so he could play. Connor's father came by later and tried to pick a fight with me, but he wasn't so keen on fighting after I bit him on the neck. It works! Dementio's got excellent improvisational skills.
3-19:
Today Dementio watched "JAWS", and then we all went to the beach! Man, even after having a kid, Kathy still looks great in a bikini. I say this because I spent most of my time with her, as Dementio was building a sand castle as far away from the water as he could get without actually going back onto the highway.
3-20:
Today we all did nothing. I mean, just a whole lot of nothing. We bummed around, watched TV, played Nintendo, messed with the computer, played with toys... it was great. This time, Dementio didn't even ASK why he didn't have to go to school today (remember, he's in pre-pre-school); I think he's starting to realize that his scholastic career is going to mostly be a lot of useless shit, and that all that really matters is the piece of paper you get at the end.
3-21:
After school, Kathy took him to the mall to get new clothes. When we're talking clothes for Dementio, we're talking style, not any of that brightly-colored froofy crap you usually see kids wearing. We're talking extra-small Dockers and Ralph Lauren shirts. For the first 15 or so years of his life, his peers will be judging him solely on his appearance, and since he's already good-looking, it's important we clothe him nattily so that, when he reaches the age when people start looking for substance and character, the roots of his dominance will already be planted.
3-22:
Today Dementio and I worked on criticism. We listened to songs on the radio, and after each one he had to say if he liked it or not. If he liked it, fine. If not, he had to insult it. He called "Californication" by the Red Hot Chili Peppers "stupid sucky", and Shaggy's "Angel" "weird crap". This kid knows lack-of-quality when he hears it. (We both laughed at the line "Closer than my peeps you are to me!" I laughed because it's such a goddamn stupid lyric; Dementio laughed because he thought they were talking about those little marshmallow Peeps they sell at Easter, and which is his favorite candy. Wouldn't it be great to see things like kids do sometimes?)
3-23:
Today I read some of Dementio's favorite books to him, with one twist: when we were at the climax of the story, he had to think up his own ending. It was great; he had a lot of fun. Here's his endings:
1. "The Cat in the Hat"- the kids jumps the Cat as he is leaving, throw his hat in the fireplace, and stomp on his face, killing him. When he dies, all the Things die, too.
2. "The Pokey Little Puppy"- boy AND puppy hit by a car.
3. "Where the Wild Things Are"- the kid eats his parents (I was a bit distressed at this).
4. "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Day"- Alexander takes his Dad's gun to school the next day, kills 30 kids, and then himself. (I KNEW letting Dementio watch the news would pay off!)
5. "Disney's Bambi"- Bambi tracks down and kills the hunter who shot his Mom. I think we all wanted this to happen. And finally,
6. "The Bearenstain Bears Get Scared"- turns out it really IS a ghost, and the two little bears are never heard from again. I am SO proud.
3-24:
Left him at the day care center again so Kathy and I could go downtown and sit around. We got reports from the day care staff that the bully from last time, Connor, was picking on Dementio... this time, the little shit figured out Dementio was scared of clowns, and chased him with a clown doll. Resourceful little Dementio, however, kicked Connor in the balls just like I tought him, and then beat him over the head with said clown doll. It was quite a scrap; the kids were all cheering, and it took 3 crusty old bats (day care staff) to pull Dementio off. Connor's Dad, once again, came to my house and tried to pick a fight with me, as if I cared about his towheaded little cretin. I wasn't in the mood, so I just shot him. I heard with lots of therapy he may walk again.
3-25:
Well, Child Services finally called me in today. Seems Connor's dad (who shall now be known as Fuckhead) reported me to them from his hospital bed. Fortunately, our house is well bugged, and I was able to present video and audio of Fuckhead acting like a first-rate bastard, trying to pick a fight with me. I think this is the last I'll be hearing from him.
3-26:
Fuckhead's sueing. I guess I should have seen it coming; the last weapon of the Great Amercan Moron. The trial starts in three months, but I doubt it'll happen. I talked to Karl, Hank, and Moose, and they're gonna take care of everything. Dementio and I went over the hundred best ways to kill someone and tried to guess which one the guys are gonna use: Dementio favors garroting, I favor the ol' silencer-in-the-sleep, and Kathy favors drowning, which shows you what a romantic she is.
3-27:
Well, Dementio got an early birthday present: his worst enemy gets to grow up without a Daddy! Fuckhead was discovered on his front lawn this morning, his head beat open by some kind of blunt instrument. So none of us was right. Turns out the guys chloroformed the wife and little Connor, then went to work. The world is now officially a better place.
3-28:
For Dementio's birthday, we went to Astroworld, which was closed, but by holding a fat, bespectacled security guard hostage with a BB gun, we were able to have fun anyway. It was just like the movie. Afterwards, we ate at Kelly's, a sweet, sweet southern' cookin' restaurant that's heavy on the flavor and heavy on the starch. Not a skinny person in there. Then we came home to watch "South Park", and then it was time for bed.
3-29:
Dementio's first day of being 5 started off with a bang; the house across the street from ours blew up at around 5 AM. Just blew right the hell up. WHOOM. We don't know what the hell happened. It was very eerie. Dementio didn't seem traumatized, but we let him stay home from school anyway. He had important TV viewing to catch up on.
3-30:
The area was abuzz, as yesterday, with news vans and police. We talked to so many cops, it just wasn't fun anymore. Apparently, someone turned on the gas stove, filling the house with gas, and then at around 5 AM, threw a firecracker in through an open window. The entire family who lived there, the Appletons, was incinerated. Questions, questions, questions. "Where were you? Where was your wife?" Fortunately, we had plenty of tape to prove our innocence... yet, I never handed over the tapes from the cameras in Dementio's room. Doesn't matter, since I wasn't ever asked for them. I wonder...
3-31:
Today, as we were pulling out of the driveway, Dementio looked at the Appleton's ruins and said, "Hey Dad!" When I looked at him, he had a huge smile on his face and went "BOOOOM!" We couldn't stop laughing. I wonder. Would he know how...? Naaaaah.
4-1:
Finally got around to taking Dementio to see "Hannibal". He seemed creeped out by Gary Oldman's hideously deformed freak, but he really liked Hannibal. He couldn't stop laughing when he fed Ray Liotta his brain. Ahh, the stares. Later on, I got myself hooked up with a blood squib, like they use in the movies, and Kathy got a starter's pistol, and when we got home, she drew it out of her purse and "shot" me. I was right next to Dementio, so blood spattered all over him. I'll never forget the look on his face, especially when I bolted upright and screamed "APRIL FOOLS!" He said he thought it was funny, but I noticed he shook the rest of the night.
4-2:
Today we talked to the police again, this time over reports from the neighbors that they heard a gunshot. We assured them everything was fine, we hadn't heard anything, etc. Goddamn nosy bastards. Time for a lesson in respecting the privacy of others.
4-3:
Since the neighbor assholes (we knew who it was, by the way; The Hurligans, an elderly couple who like to wear muu-muus and bermuda shorts with dark socks. Sad bastards.) seem to have such a problem minding their own business, maybe they would like to mind everyone else's. All the time. I snuck up into their attic (with Dementio as my lookout) and wired several woofers and subwoofers up in various hidden and hard-to-reach places (not that either of those old farts could even GET to the attic anymore). These are, of course, tuned to different AM stations; the stock exchange, the religion channels, the sports radio, the college radio, etc. At full blast. With no way to turn down the volume. I snuck back over to our own house and threw the switch. I also too the liberty of placing a mike in there, and the desperate howling was oh-so-pleasurable. Dementio thought so, too.
4-4:
Fucking with the Hurligans continues. Today they called a repairman. By the time he got there, the sound, of course, had been shut off. As soon as he left, however, BOOM! Back on again! Delicious.
4-5 thru 4-7:
Fucked with the neighbors. Teaching Dementio how to subtly drive someone mad... as well as how to have a fine, old fashioned good time.
4-8:
Today the ambulance came. They hauled Mr. Hurligan out on a stretcher, hooked up to various tubes and such. One down, one to go.
4-9:
Noticed a "For Sale" sign go up in front lawn of Hurligan house. Victory is sweet! The audio assualt, of course, will continue til the old bitch is gone. Meanwhile, Kathy has taken to walking around the house in her underwear, surely sparking all kinds of weird Oedipal fireworks in Dementio's budding mind. "Wow! Mom's HOT!"
4-10:
Dementio sent home from school today for calling his teacher an "awful cunt". Seems the Trainspotting vernacular had an effect on him (we watched it Sunday). We punished him with a Reese's Peanut Butter Blizzard from Dairy Queen. Spare the rod, spoil that motherfucker, I say. Frequently.
4-11:
Made a potato gun. Fired it randomly across the subdivision from the roof. Dementio went absolutely apeshit with glee; I think he really loves explosions and firearms. Damaged several SUV's. Explained the concept of yummie scumbags to Dementio whilst doing so.
4-12:
Geared up for Friday the 13th. Bought Dementio a hockey mask. Finally upgraded his razors to a steak knife. He's got the ominous lumber down pat.
4-13:
Dementio came home early from day care today (we sent him there, again, for the hell of it); shortly after, about seven different sirens drove past our house. Seems Dementio got the drop on Connor after school and chased him. Everything I taught him about getting ahead of people and leaping out from the shadows seems to have paid off; Dementio cut him up pretty bad. They showed his picture of the news, and he has a long, jagged line under his right eye, across the bridge of his nose, and over his right eye, that they said he'd probably keep for life. Rewarded Dementio with a spirited session of pulling the legs off junebugs.
4-14:
Introduced Dementio to Metallica. He's not really old enough to get into their older stuff yet, but he really liked "Of Wolf and Man" and "No Leaf Clover". We're on the right track with this kid. We'll explain how they alienated all their fans later. For now, he should have some heroes.
4-15:
Well, Kathy and I talked it over, and decided that we should turn off all the electricity to the house and live like goddamn animals for ten days. See you then.
4-25:
Well, THAT was a bad idea. Who would have thought that, in a primitive, survivalist society, people just might turn animalistic and downright evil over little things like food? Really, we should have put more thought into it. Anyway, Kathy and I got into such a heated territorial battle, that, by the time we remembered Dementio on the seventh or so day, he had already lapsed into a coma. Despiter our better instincts, we decided to go ahead and take him to the hospital. Just as we expected: extreme malnutrition and dehydration. Not that he didn't try: we found out he'd been killing and eating bugs in his room; unfortunately, he ended up throwing most of it up, which eliminated the nutrition and really helped the dehydration along. Anyway, he's in serious condition right now, and Kathy and I are just devastated over it.
4-26:
No change in Dementio's condition.
4-27:
No change.
4-28:
I had hoped, somehow, that this being Dementio's 6th birthday, he would provide us with a magical moment of hope and triumph by pulling out of his coma. Sure enough, no change.
4-29:
Thought I saw his toes move. Just be sure, I poked at them for an hour with a safety pin. I have been kicked out of the hospital.
4-30:
Police came around today. Answered standard battery of question. Those fuckers are getting seriously suspicious.
5-1:
Dementio woke up today, and just in time to start learning his new name: Wulf Xavier Smith. I am John Smith; Kathy is Kathy Smith. We're moving to Montana tomorrow. Possibly tonight. How appropriate for May Day.
5-2:
Well, I was hoping to leave without a prolonged gun battle, but alas, it was not to be. As a squadron of ATF vans pulled up outside, I breathed a sigh of relief: I was afraid someone competent was going to come after us. After they spent ten minutes pumping warning shots into each other, the more competent and living agents began hammering their way into the front hall way, where they were met with covering fire from Kathy and Demen- I mean, Wulf, as I lobbed Molotov cocktails at them and their vans. Escaping amidst the flying bullets and flaming bodies, we made good our getaway. How was YOUR day?
5-3:
I don't think Wulf trusts us to take care of him. He used to ask me to get his cereal for him; now he does it himself. He's more prone to ride his bike to places we could easily give him a ride to, and he tells us he hates us every thirty minutes. It will take a while to gain back his trust after the coma... so I went ahead and slapped him around a bit.
5-4:
Drove all day, again. Stopped only to refuel and eat, sometimes at the same place (there's a gas-station/Taco Bell/Baskin Robbins in Billings that's not to be missed). Finally we arrived at the Heaven's Doorknob compound, a place of "wonderment and light", according to the brochure. We'll see.
5-5:
They don't allow computers, or for that matter any technology at all here, so I'll be writing from the library for the next week, until we can find a way to torch the compound and flee again.
5-6:
Christ. Grits, grits, grits. Fucking hippie gun nuts. Kathy hates it too, although Wulf is enchanted by the leader, Moonbrite Silverstar. I shall be killing his gay ass.
5-7:
Killed his gay ass. Family once again on the run. No time to type. Will notify as soon as temporary residence is aquired.
5-8:
Maybe it's time to, in the words of Arnold Schwarzenegger in the role that was so awful it forced him to take a 2-year hiatus from acting, "chill out". Canada looks pretty good, especially after this morning's shootout with the U.S. Marshalls. I wonder what their extradition laws are like?
5-9:
Well, as you may have guessed, getting across the border was difficult; I'm sure we were spotted by several elk. Afterwards, however, it was clear sailing. We've driven all the way to Vancouver, and we'll be driving the rest of the way to Whitehorse tomorrow. I've managed to steal an icepick from the bar, and I'll be instructing Wulf to stick it into the first person who says "eh."
5-10:
After Wulf thrust the icepick into the bellboy's eyeball, we figured it was time to be checking out. It was his first hands-on murder; I stopped after a few hours, and we had ice cream at a McDonald's to celebrate. We got into Whitehorse just as it was getting dark. Tonight we stay in yet another hotel: tomorrow, we go house-shopping.
5-11:
If it weren't for the Canadians, Canada would be damn near perfect. It's beautiful up here. The hills, the trees, the magpies... it's all so frontierish, it appeals to my inner Texan. We found a large, two-story house out in the hills, all by itself, with mountains all around. It was a breathtaking setting, and the view from the windows is gorgeous. Plus, it's out in the middle of nowhere, so the nosy neighbor factory is cut out. It's only about a 15 minute drive into town, though, so we're not isolated, which is also good; we wouldn't want to turn all this evil on each other.
5-12:
Wulf went exploring the terrain around the house all day today, leaving Kathy and I alone in our new house. What happened during that time is, frankly, none of your business. Wulf came home at about sunset, covered in mud, grinning from ear to ear. "Did you know there's BEARS here?" he asked excitedly. I love this kid.
5-13:
Wulf met a kid who lives a bike's ride away (oh yeah: he can ride a bike now), and they spent the day together. Kid's name is Monty. I think we have our first disciple!
5-14:
Looked into schools for Wulf. Things I asked about: discipline policies, history of teacher intervention, honors programs, evil honors programs, and lunch menus. I was greeted with strange looks about, but I think I've got the right one. Tomorrow, Wulf begins his life at Caligula Elementary.
5-15:
Wulf's first day was completely uneventful. When I asked what the deal was, he said, "Dad, I can't just show my hand immediately." How do you like that? 6 years old, and already using poker terms. Is this kid the coolest, or what?
5-16:
Kathy picked Wulf up from school and took him to his first Karate lesson. None of that pussy-ass American Standard Karate; I mean the real thing. We managed to find an honest-to-God karate instructor just outside of town, and his rates are reasonable. Kathy said his first lesson went well, although the instructor, a 60-year-old Chinese-American gentleman, appeared really creeped out by Wulf.
5-17:
Wulf is really enjoying his karate lessons; after today's, he showed me the roundhouse kick he'd just learned. He's good; the bruise is actually kinda swollen. Things are getting too idyllic. Kathy and I need to shake things up somehow.
5-18:
As Wulf slept, Kathy and I stealthily covered the windows in thick black cloth. Then, we woke Wulf up and told him we'd been buried in an avalanche. He didn't even fall for it for a SECOND! This kid is good. We're gonna have to think of something else...
5-19:
Arrangements are being made.
5-20:
Kathy, the stealthier of us, chloroformed Wulf in his sleep earlier this morning. Not so much as a peep; she was made for this kind of work. I administered the drops. I obtained these drops from an optometrist friend of mine (they didn't come cheap), and they are the drops used when they dilate your eyes. That's right; in the morning, Wulf will have pupils the size of marbles.
5-21:
MAN. Talk about a scared little kid! He opened his eyes this morning, and BAM! Sunlight flooded his room. He shouted in pain and began crying hysterically. I asked him what was wrong; he said it hurt to open his eyes. I said to take it like a man and get your ass ready for school. He went and bumped into shit all day. He got a dressing down for disrupting the class when he knocked over a desk. He came home and stayed in his room crying all night. Unfortunately, I think that helped shorten the drops' effects, because by nightfall he was normal again.
5-22:
Wulf doesn't seem to be phased anymore by Kathy walking around in her underwear, so we're hiring a babysitter. Mandy is 18, auburn-haired, and just as pert and busty as you would imagine. Kathy and I went to the park to mug some people tonight, and left Wulf with Kandy, who, for now, remains fully clothed, albeit in tight jeans and a skimpy tank top. Already sexual frustration of Catholic proportions is brewing in Wulf, I could tell from his face. Oh, and Kathy and I scored 700 dollars.
5-23:
Wolf and Monty went bike-riding today. Somehow, Monty broke his arm. He and Wulf both said he fell off his bike, but it looks more like he was hit with a tree branch. Neither will say anything more than "He fell off his bike." I think discipledom has set in.
5-24:
Came home drunk at 2 AM today. Kathy let Wulf stay up to see my pathetic ass fumble with the lock for ten minutes and then stagger through the door. He asked why alcohol is OK, but other drugs aren't; we sent him to his room.
5-25:
Went to Putt-Putt to celebrate the weekend. Played Mini-Golf for a while, then turned Dementio loose in the arcade. A bunch of bigger, older boys pushed Wulf off of his favorite game (Resident Evil: Dead Bastards Keep Coming), and instead of crying about it, he went and got a skee-ball, put it in his sock, came back, and bonked the "leader" of the group of little thugs over the head with it, giving him a concussion. Now THAT'S improvisation. I imagine no one would have messed with him after that, if we hadn't been thrown out.
5-26:
Monty got out of the hospital today, and Wulf spent the day with him. That was just fine with me and Kathy.
5-27:
Wulf and Monty have aquired a new friend, George, and all three of them were over today. We played Monopoly and I won, but just barely. Wulf was hot on my heels the whole time. Sometimes George would whine about losing, but Wulf just muttered, "Shut UP." And he DID. AAAAAH HA HA HA HA HAAAA.
5-28:
For Wulf's 7th birthday, we had a picnic out by the lake with a bunch of Wulf's school friends (he already has 6 or 7) and played Paintball. I hid in the lake and popped kids as they passed by. I'll be damned if I'm gonna let a bunch of little shits beat me at Paintball. Wulf shot some kid named Bryce point blank in the face, right between the eyes. He pretended like it was a mistake, but later when he and his Mom and I were alone, he said, "I bet Bryce never tackles me on the playground again." Holy shit. I bet not, too.
5-29:
Figure Wulf's old enough now to stop watching his language. Going to public school, he already knew "fuck", "shit", "bitch", and the others, but we taught him "cocksucker", "motherfucker", and a few others he'd forgotten about since watching "Trainspotting". We also instructed him who it was OK to say these words around. Now he can impress his friends, and not get in trouble.
5-30:
To wake Wulf up today, I kicked his door in and cut his TV in half with a chainsaw. Bought him a newer, better one this afternoon. He does NOT know what the fuck is going on.
5-31:
Don't know what happened to Wulf today. He wasn't in his bed this morning, and we haven't seen him all day.
6-1:
Trouble. Monty said he saw a big, fat man with a mullet drag Wulf into his car and drive away. FUCK. Doesn't he know he's interrupting an EXPIREMENT? Doesn't he know he's fucking with SCIENCE? I'm sorry, this whole thing just makes me so irritated.
6-2:
Police made a sketch composite of the guy based on Monty's description, and posted it all over town. Hopefully, it'll help.
6-3:
Late yesterday, somebody spotted Wulf's kidnapper and called the Police. Seems he's a troubled loner named Alton Schmidt. I bribed the Police to back off. Remember that name; it is the name of a dead man. Kathy and I are taking turns watching his house.
6-4:
What luck! The guy came home on my shift. I started walking toward the house, and shots rang out. I broke into a run. Turns out, Wulf had struggled free of his bonds (the guy hadn't had a chance to rape him yet... which would have been interesting), found a gun, and shot the guy's kneecaps out when he walked in the door. I almost tripped over him as I went inside. Wulf was glad to see me. He was a little beat up, but nothing horrible. We rooted around the guy's house until we found some stainless steel pipes, and then we beat him to death. Took almost half an hour. Wulf said it was the best he ever felt.
6-5:
The community poured out tidings of gladness to us over our re-aquisition of Wulf. He stayed home today and basked in the affection and attention. It was good to see him manipulating people so expertly, but I really don't like being on the news quite this much.
6-10:
Sorry I haven't logged in a few days. I've been really busy preparing my next big scare for Dementio. He's getting waaaay too comfortable. There's still some kinks in the system, so I won't reveal anything just yet except to say that if everything goes right, we're all in for a helluva good time. And oh yeah, we started calling him Dementio again at home, but we're still calling him Wulf in front of people. My paranoia is starting to wear off.
6-12:
All right. Here's what I've done: while Dementio was away at school, I've cleared a space out of the floorboards under his bed. Today and for the rest of the week, we're digging a tunnel leading from Dementio's room to my room. More on why we're doing this after I finish writing up the blueprints with Ken, an M.I.T. graduate and ex-felon who lives one town over.
6-14:
Dementio told me he caused a bully to get his ass kicked at school today, and didn't even have to lift a finger. Apparently, the bully started pushing him around, and Dementio said, just loud enough for everyone to hear, "Look, Neil, it's bad enough to have to talk shit about French Canadians all the time without you picking on kids smaller than you." Three sixth grade French Canadians then took Neil back to the locker room and had words with him. In other news, Ken and I have finished the schematics for our robotic Monster-Under-the-Bed. It's a realistic-looking skull made from polished false ivory and painted to look like bone. It's got glowing red eyes, and we're also building shoulders and one pneumatic arm and hand that can lash out and try to grab Dementio if he gets too close. But that's not even the good part.
6-15:
Dementio got curious as to what I was doing all day, and I told him I was doing research for an article I'm writing for a ghost-story website about local ghosts. I told him about what the natives call the Gatecrasher, which erupts from the bowels of Hell to snatch people from their beds and drag them back down to Hell with it. I made sure to tell him not to worry; it's just superstition. He's nervous.
6-17:
Kathy has started being very nurturing to Dementio. She quit her day job in order to be able to pick him up from school and play with him in the afternoons. She's not walking around in her underwear anymore (at least, not in front of Dementio), and has really slipped into the mothering mode quite well. This is all part of the plan.
6-20:
Tunnel finished today. Dementio hasn't done anything fucked up or gotten into trouble. We definitely let him sit undisturbed for too long.
6-22:
Robot Gatecrasher almost complete. Paid a bunch of Dementio's school chums 50 bucks each to tell Gatecrasher stories around him in school. The little guys were only too happy to oblige. Kathy took him to Chuck E. Cheese's today. They've really bonded in the past week. Heh heh heh.
6-23:
Completed robot Gatecrasher and set it up in the tunnel beneath Dementio's bed. Rigged the floorboards so that when Gatecrasher escapes "back into Hell", they will fall back into place and stick as if nothing had happened. Kathy took Dementio out for ice cream.
6-24:
Test run was supposed to be tonight, but Dementio intentionally gave a kid who was bothering him at school salmonella poisoning, so I postponed it til tomorrow. I don't think the kid was a bully, just a real annoying little dumbass. And so we see cruelty to the weak rearing its ugly head. Kathy took him to see "Shrek".
6-25:
Man. What a test run. I made the thing rattle the floorboards a little to get Dementio good and scared. Then I poked its head up, just so its red, glowing eyes would shine out from under the bed, and said through the intercom, "Dementio... come with me... Dementio... let's be friends." Then I stopped it and retracted it. Dementio ran screaming into Kathy and I's bedroom so fast, I barely had time to hide the controller and pretend to be having sex. I told him it was his imagination. He, of course, didn't buy it.
6-26:
This time, Dementio was too scared to get out of bed. "Dementio... I want to tell you a secret..." He pissed himself and screamed for me and Kathy, but we pretended to be asleep.
6-27:
Revoked Dementio's TV priveleges for pissing his bed this morning. Kathy took him to Discovery Zone to "make him feel better". Then, at night, Gatecrasher appeared. Dementio actually looked under his bed at it tonight, and screamed his little head off. I made Gatecrasher say, "Tomorrow night I've got a birthday present for you, Dementio... you're coming home with me." Some eerie laughter, and then retracted. Dementio came and got Kathy and I, but we pretended not to believe a word of it. Tomorrow's gonna be his worst birthday ever.
6-28:
Dementio turned 8 today. We took him and his friends to a Go-Kart Extravaganza, a Canadian equivalent of Supertrack. He almost got his mind off his troubles, but at night, he begged to sleep with us in our bed. We insisted that he would sleep alone. Around 11, Gatecrasher showed up. I made him rise to his full height out of the floorboards, so that he actually pounded on the bottom of Dementio's bed. Dementio leaped out and ran into our room. Now it gets good; I sent Kathy with him to show him that there was nothing there. She knealt down on her knees and reached under the bed. "See? Nothing here, sweetie. It was just a bad dr- AAAA!" Gatecrasher's hand shot out from under the bed and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her under. Dementio tried to hang onto her, but of course, she didn't really want to be saved. The only light in the room was the red light from Gatecrasher's eyes, making it impossible to see what was happening. A great torrent of fake blood spewed out from under the bed, all over Kathy and Dementio, blinding him for a moment. When he wiped his eyes clear, his mother's bare legs were disappearing under the bed. The noise and screaming stopped. Dementio screamed for me while pushing his bed aside. All he found under- neath was more blood and Kathy's torn nightgown. Kathy, of course, made sure the tunnel entrance under Dementio's bed was closed, then ran, naked and covered in fake blood, to my room. I helped her get all the blood off with a bucket and sponge, then she quickly dressed, kissed me goodbye, and snuck out through my window as I pushed our bed over the tunnel exit. I went into Dementio's room ("Son? I thought I heard screaming- OH MY GOD!") and found him curled up in the fetal position, whimpering and sucking his thumb. Gotcha.
6-29:
I told Dementio that he could never tell anyone about what happened to his mother, or else they'd think he was crazy. Kathy got an apartment across town, and is staying there. Our official story is that she left me. By covering up what he thinks was a monster attack, Dementio doesn't look for the deeper lie, i.e. Kathy and I's deception. He won't sleep in his room anymore, and in fact didn't sleep at all tonight. I told him that all the Gatecrasher wanted was to make him suffer, and now that it's done that, it probably won't come back, but to him, my advice thus far in this matter has been pretty damn fallible, so I don't blame him for moving to the couch.
6-30:
Dementio still hasn't slept. His teachers are worried about him, but attribute it to his Mom's "leaving" him. Now that Kathy's gone, we'll be seeing more of our busty young babysitter Tammi, which is nice. Today she babysat for Dementio while I went and paid Ken and his engineering team the 20 grand I promised him. She spent the whole time sunbathing on the deck in a skimpy bikini while Dementio stayed outside in the sun. So many conflicting instincts.
7-1:
Went to church. Dementio asked the preacher why God was such an "unfair prick". AAAAAAAAAA HA HA HA HA HA!!!
7-2:
Bad news. The bully that was messing with Dementio before, Neil, teased him about his Mom being a slut, and Dementio beat him to within an inch of his life with a tee-ball bat. They are suggesting Dementio be put in special classes, or even a special school until he's not a danger to other kids, which I don't want, because he has to be able to develop the kinds of social skills that will allow him to develop a loyal following. I'm contesting it, arguing the case against Neil's parents. If their lawyer's any good, that'll be two more bodies rotting in a ditch some- where and one more move for the Gray-Kunkle family. Shit.
7-3:
Dementio's staying home from school. I let him just sit around and do whatever he wanted. Kid deserved a break. After his school let out, though, a bunch of his friends stopped by to see what he was doing. I had no idea he'd made so many friends. A lot of girls, too, which is unusual for his age. My son, the mack daddy.
7-4:
Took him to watch the fireworks this evening. Whenever the red ones would go off, he'd get kind of edgy, I think remembering the red glow of the Gatecrasher's eyes. He's finally starting to sleep 3 or 4 hours a night, albeit still on the couch.
7-5:
Stopped by the hospital to see Neil today. Problem. The kid looks like hell. That is NOT going to play well in front of a jury. His face is swollen like a Sharpe's, and his left arm is broken in two places. Not looking good. What if we have to leave and then the next family finds the tunnel under the house? What if word gets back to Dementio what his mother and I did? It's risky.
7-8:
The first hearing was today. Neil's parents got up and did their little "boo-hoo, our boy's in the hospital, and doesn't he look like he was fed to a cornhusker, and pity us, please" song and dance. Their lawyer was a stuttering, low-price first-year with an overbite and glasses that made him look like a moth. Our lawyer is a smooth-talking man I hired from the states. It's looking much better after all; he called a bunch of Dementio's classmates, and they were all supportive of him and said he had never been violent before, and it must have been his mom's recent flight that did it to him. Dementio was called onto the stand, and answered all the questions calmly and charmingly. The courtroom is heavily in Dementio's favor.
7-10:
Went to see Kathy today; she's dyed her hair blonde and has started dressing a little older, so no one will recognize her on the off chance. She's enjoying the single life, and I am too. I told her I might have sex with Tammi, and she said "save some for me". Whatta gal.
7-11:
Had sex with Tammi. I think she's level-headed enough not to go blabbing to her parents or friends about it, but just in case, she IS legal. Dementio spent the day in therapy, where he drew in sand and arranged colored blocks.
7-13:
Dementio finally went back in his room. Without all the blood, it actually didn't look quite so menacing. He tried to sleep in there, but couldn't. Good try, though.
7-14:
The judge actually THREW OUT the case against Dementio and ordered him to return to school immediately. Who says the justice system doesn't work?
7-15:
Left Tammi to watch Dementio while I went to Kathy's place. After that, I came back early, and saw Dementio ogling Tammi, who was sunbathing topless outside. Facing up. Heh heh heh.
7-16:
Dementio returned to school today. He said it was great to be back, to see all his friends again, and to be welcomed back by the entire school. Minus Neil, of course, who is still in the hospital. While he was at school, Tammi and Kathy came over, and I'm pretty sure you can guess why. Tammi's great; she'll never breathe a word about Kathy's continued presence to anyone. Levelheaded kid, and a good role model. She kept up with Kathy all right, too. What a great life.
7-19:
Dementio came home early from school today. Someone said something about going to Chuck E. Cheese's (where Kathy used to take him), and he just broke down. I told him to suck it up and to quit acting like such a fucking pussy. Just for that display, he was ordered to spend the night in his room.
7-20:
Believe you me, if Dementio broke down at school today, he did it in private, because he does NOT want to go back in his room. And I didn't even have Gatecrasher do anything.
7-21:
Today I started to tell Dementio a story, but stopped. "It involves the Gatecrasher. You probably don't want to hear it." He said OK, but I know my boy.
7-22:
He begged me today to tell him the story that I started yesterday, and I did. It seems that, on the anniversary of the death of a Gatecrasher victim, the victim has been known to reappear, but they are NOT the same person; they are beings of evil, one of the Gatecrasher's loyal followers who can suck the soul out of a person with a mere kiss. Dementio immediately started hyperventilating: you see, his ninth birthday is in 6 days.
7-23:
He begged me to take him away from this house and town, but I told him no. He's made too many friends to move away now. I told him any more of this shit, and he'd have to sleep in his room. That shut him up.
7-24:
Dementio started sobbing again at supper. I asked him why, but he refused to tell me. All this grief and fear, and he can't vent to a single soul. Am I a genius, or what?
7-27:
Dementio has been avoiding me. He feels ashamed for showing his weakness over and over by crying like a bitch. HA! His birthday is tomorrow! And mine is the day after that!
7-28:
Took Dementio to a hockey game for his birthday; there were 3 fights! Those were what we really enjoyed most, although the experience itself was a lot of fun. When we got back to the house, he broke down and started sobbing again, and started whining about how "he missed Mommy so much" and that he felt bad because "he wanted her back but was scared of her returning from the grave", blah blah blah, boo fucking hoo. I tried to be as gentle as possible, and told him that if Mommy though he needed to join her in Hell, he would just have to go with her. He didn't react very well to that! At about 1 AM, I bumped the floorboards with the robot head of the Gatecrasher. THUMP. That was it. 15 minutes later, I heard Dementio sneaking out to the utility room to wash his sheets. So he IS learning.
7-29:
For my birthday, I dropped Dementio off at daycare (he was one of the oldest kids there, but whatever) and spent the day with Tammi and Kathy for one of my best birthdays ever. Ahhh. It's nice being Phat Cheops.
7-30:
At midnight, Kathy snuck over, waited on the front lawn for a bit, and then howled "Dementiooooo..." 5 or 6 times. He started screaming and crying. "I love you, Mommy, but I'm scared," that sort of horseshit. Then Kathy made a quick getaway while Dementio snuck back into the utility room. Who would have though it was gonna be THIS damn much fun? And consequence-free!
7-31:
Left Dementio with Tammi, who again sunned nakedly on the deck, and spent the day with Kathy.
8-1:
Tammi said Dementio grilled her pretty hard about the whole "Gatecrasher" thing... she told him that she thought it was probably real, but she'd never seen it. Good for her. Still, I don't like the fact that Dementio is getting inquisitive. It might be time for another visit.
8-3:
Spent yesterday making sure the Gatecrasher still worked while Tammi babysat Dementio. Turns out, it was a bit rusty. Oiled it up. Should be ready to go by tomorrow; Ken's coming by to give it a once-over.
8-10:
OK. Where do I start? I made the Gatecrasher come out of the floorboards again on the night of the 4th. Well, I was rather surprised to hear GUNSHOTS coming from Dementio's room. Profoundly at a loss, I ran in there, to find Dementio standing across the room in his Dragonball Z PJ's, pointing a smoking revolver at what was left of the Gatecrasher robot, looking very, very angry. I don't know where he got the gun, I have never seen it before. I would have recognized it, because the very next second, he trained it on me. "Where's Mom?" "Now listen, son, I can explain-" He cocked the weapon. "WHERE. IS. MOM?" I smiled uneasily. "Come on, Dementio. We both know you're not gonna kill me. You're just a kid! How will you eat with no parents to support you?" Dementio thought for a second. "I guess you're right. I can't kill you." And then he shot me in the crotch. He took off. I haven't seen him since. I had to crawl into the kitchen and call my own ambulance. How bad is the damage? Let's just say that I'm glad I had those threesomes, cuz I'm not gonna be having any from now on, nor twosomes, nor even a decent jerkoff session, and Dementio has successfully forever rendered himself an only child. I know he's out there. I hardly slept a wink in the hospital; I knew he was gonna show up to finish me off. So after they sewed me up, I stole some antibiotics and painkillers and fled. I've been on the road for two days now. Wonder if I should try to contact Kathy... God help me.
8-12:
Shacked up with Kathy. Thank God Dementio still doesn't know where I am. Kathy has once again taken to walking around with no clothes on, but what used to turn me on now gives me only frustration and a small tickling sensation. I'm gonna kill that fucking kid. Assuming he doesn't kill me first.
8-14:
Drove by the house today. There were grocery vans and clothing vans parked outside. I forgot the little bastard had my wallet, and hence my credit cards. Heh. Little bastard. That's be great irony, if my nuts hadn't been blown off.
8-17:
Still hiding at Kathy's scared to go out. No appetite. I hate everyone.