Steve.... Dim..... Neo..... what was going through their brains? The days licked on like popcicle sticks. Nothing changed much around the house, which had been built in the 60s and was now falling apart like a sloppily built beaver dam in the midst of spring showers. What, if anything, have you accomplished in this time? Decades of events and triggers rolled past like yesterday's waste. Back in 1992, they had the damn kid setup near the house on Tamarack Street with a big plastic baseball bat, and jeff swim faked out the catch. The glass paneling in the entryway near the front door blew open. This had been accomplished by micro-C4 explosives planted in the glass itself, but was intended to give the impression that the kid had knocked out the glass from hitting it with the bat. Later on, perhaps weeks from that event, the kid was trying to cross the street. He was riding one of those 3-wheeled bikes from Zellers. Char stood on the opposite side of the road, and hollered at him to cross. He didn't want to cross, it went against his gut, but he did anyway, just to get across the road. Then, a few months later, some crazy fuck driving a shitty car would cross in front of Jim Fiddler's blue pickup, being driven by jeff swim. The event was to demonstrate symmetry breaking in the form of an adult male pretending to have been sticken by a pair of scissors across his forehead. The scissors were claimed to have been atop the dash at the moment of impact. The man, bloodied from the forehead down, red smears across his face, stumbled from the vehicle, looking dazed and confused. The kid, who was probably about 7 or 8 at the time, looked up at the injured man, who was in fact not injured at all but prepared to look as such. Jeff swim spoke on apologetically to the man, who eventually climbed back in his car and left. The damage to Jim fiddler's truck, which Jeff swim had been driving at the time, was little more than a dent of blue plastic from the hood, which they would joke about later. They would joke about the blue plastic notch breaking out of the hood at the expense of a fully damaged vehicle with a man who'd had his face torn up by a pair of scissors on the dashboard repeatedly, like the event had some sort of mystical significance.

fucking steve upstairs like a rat faced son of shit. Every second of the day squeaking the goddamn floors with Dim like pieces of junk. In their minds, they were emulating acts of god. God's footsteps. God's noises. Creaks. Squeals in the wood. Evidence of divine intervention coming from above. How fucking lost and delusional can you be? What the fuck is wrong with such human beings as this? Could they not see beyond their own pathetic blindness? I remember when i was as braindead as these ridiculous saps. I doubt they'll ever see the truth, and i doubt I'll ever care. They're sad, pathetic people, and will be easily forgotten. Peace, you fucking creeps. Please die in a fire.