eyeballkid

In a startling jolt, Franklin snapped into cognizance, his mind still psychosomatically drunk from the night before, demanded an explination for the disturbance. It could be one of two things, it surmised, either the pounding outside his third floor apartment widow, or the black form standing arrogantly on his bare chest. His crust-riddled eyes, apparently unionized, did only as much as was asked of them, confirming that indeed, there was an indistinct figure mounted on top of him, before taking a well deserved break. Coincidentally, the calming void of pre-slumber was just what his warming brain needed to begin processing its ambiguous, yet potentially adequate data. Rolling this over a few times it began to click into place. Still, something didn't quite fit. It tried to mash it into subordination like an intolerant child would a jigsaw puzzle. 'Failure. Insufficient data.' Grimly, his eyes reopened. "Yes?" ,came the stale voice from whiskey brown lips. The form shifted; came into view. It was Pestilence. The plague spoke. "There is a storm coming. I advise you to prepare."

Heh. That's the first paragraph of my never-to-be-finished novel. As I typed the second to last line my door creaked open, and I jumped. It was my cat, Pestilence. Weird. I guess his ears were burning.
So, another ex of mine just called to inform me that she was sleeping over tommorow night. It should be interesting. I wonder how long it will take before we start accusing each other of copious foul things and pointing blame. I give it an hour and a half.
Went to another party last night. The ex from before was there again, this time with disasterous results. I ended up driving home at 5 a.m., half drunk, to have my car die on the busiest street in Franklin. I made it home a free man eventually though. So, you guys come here often?