November 15, 2010: TAKE ONE
I woke up early. I showered. I got dressed. I had breakfast. I spent some time online... I had dinner. I sat down to write this...
It's all so
boring! When I lived in the city things were more exciting, I could go places and see things, and now I can't afford to go anywhere and am trapped in this idiotic suburb on a
peninsula. Well, I refuse to acknowledge how boring it is out here: I am going to
retroactively make my day
awesome.
November 15, 2010: TAKE TWO
I woke up, dispatched the assassins in the wardrobe, showered, and got dressed. I was just about to make breakfast, but I was interrupted by an enormous crash outside - it turned out one of the dinosaurs from the cloning facility was loose and had caused someone to swerve in shock and roll their vehicle. It had one foot on the crashed car and was trying to get at the tasty snack inside.
Dinosaur breakout is a common occurrence in these parts, so I just grabbed a large-bore rifle from the closet, loaded a couple of shells into it, and took the slavering reptile's head clean off. I couldn't really think up a neat line on the spot, I hadn't had my coffee this morning and I really need some caffeine before I can manage the witticisms.
Of course, I was out of coffee.
Since I could still hear the dinobreak sirens in the distance, I would have to load up on ammunition for the trip across to the shops. When I got there I found everything was closed. Lazy bastards! Well, it was easy enough to pick the lock on the side door. Still no coffee. That meant a trek over to the other side of the hill to find a shop with coffee - the buses aren't allowed onto the peninsula when there's a dinobreak, since there's some sort of bizarre fear they'll escape quarantine via public transport.
I won't bore you with the fending off dinosaurs, or the zombies from the graveyard. But when I got to Seatoun, what did I find? Bloody pirates looting the store. It's always the same, isn't it? The worst part of dealing with pirates is that they always call me a wench. It's like there's some kind of regulation.
Fifty-three dead pirates later, I was on my way home with some coffee. When I got home I found that the house had a pteranodon roosting on the roof. I decided I couldn't be bothered dealing with that right away. Coffee beckoned. Since it was getting late I made dinner - and I have no idea how a cobra got in the oven, but since they're not quite as alarming as dinosaurs it's probably best not to think too hard about it. I just threw it out the window. I think I hit someone with it, but they should be aware of the "watch for airborne venomous animals" signs.
So I've just spent some time finishing off the abbreviated tale of my day. I can still hear the pteranodon on the roof, but otherwise it's quiet. Quiet, but all of a sudden bright. There's all this bright light outside... Oh, aliens. Here we go again...