This has been the longest meal I have ever cooked, as I have much to ponder. How exactly will I turn the mad whole again?
I'm starting to feel nervous every time one of them comes near. I know I shouldn't. I could have created them for all I know. One day they were fine, and the next they seem to be consumed with plaid shirts, blue jeans, and dirty bare feet. Country music drifts up from the basement studio and begins to penetrate my fragile mind.
I know what they are trying to do. They are trying to break me! Well hell no I won't go, not willingly. I will fight them and see this through to the end.
Hearing the children's giggles has me on edge and without knowing why. I left the house to seek the solitude only the morning doves could give me. As I look across the lawn, I saw twenty dead birds spread out before me.
My youngest son giggled as I saw him retreat inside with a slingshot in hand. While his sister gave me the look. You know the one where your heart leaps a little before causing an ache to spread down your chest. Dread, maybe that's it.
Walking into the backyard, I my beloved chopping wood still. What in the world is happening? I left and jumped into my gold Honda Accord and drove into town only to discover there is no escape. Every man looked the same, red plaid shirts and dirty blue jeans. The children too had the same blood shot eyes and drab clothing.
Running into a nearby county store, I tripped on a wooden crate skinning my knee, and if you thought things weren't strange enough; they became even worst. Inside were ten men looking the same as my own precious man at home. Turning I tried to leave only to realize the door was blocked by thirteen snarling children.
I was trapped!