Top of the list: going to the airport when some Nasty has a grudge against you and zombie minions planted in the local police...

and that shotgun in your checked bag just lets them hold you indefinitely as a terrorist...

on the plus side of things, I'm out now, Stinky's dead, and I'm waaay too tired to explain everything fully just at the moment...

suffice it to say, the Python reference still applies.

Greetin's From Maine

Yup, thats Homeland Security for ya. Sorry to hear bout your situation, ya ever need a place to crash, I got a few a cabins up here that are nice, cozy, and private.
And any friend of Ron is welcome here at The Cove, anytime.

Happy Huntin'

Thankfully, things aren't quite that bad... I got out about two months ago, spent some time on a matress on my mom's floor--as it turns out, my bedroom was taken over by my little brother and a stepbrother I didn't even know I had while I was gone (I always thought, if anyone in my family was going to do it, I'd be the one to marry some stranger from the internet )--and generally laid low till I was pretty sure the Bug was actually dead this time.

After a few weeks without any zombie sightings and a minimum of bad vibes, I ventured getting a job at a local McDonalds (the best I could manage at the time)... then about two weeks ago, I found myself a room for rent in a house with some college students, waved goodbye to my family problems, and have done my best so far to never look back.



Except, of course, once you get into this line of work, there's really no choice but to look back, lest you end up in some beasties throat... before too long, I was feeling vibes again--not at work, like I would have expected (as bad as half our food is, it has to be McSoylent Rib, right?), but from seemingly innocent people on the bus... or down the side roads on my walk home... even in the basement of my new place. Which brings us back to square one: me, posting here, not at all sure what's wrong but wanting at least someone to talk to about it without ending up back in the clutches of men like my father and his white-suited cronies.

And maybe, just maybe, lending a little help of my own where I can.

Shoot..

After all the problems I just went through, I know where your comin' from. If ya ever need to chat it up, I here for ya buddy. If ya ever need to make a clean break from the world, could always use the help up this way also.

Happy Huntin'

Robin give us any detail you can and we will do what we can.

That's the thing: all I've got to go on at this point is "bad vibes"... something about the place just doesn't quite feel right, and I've been having simply dreadful dreams... worse, I think, than the poor sleep my futon produces can account for... though half the ones I can remember have been dreams about not being able to sleep, so maybe I'm just being paranoid again.

If I manage to find anything else, believe me, I'll be headed for the nearest computer with internet access that instant.

Just remember to trust those bad vibes they can keep you alive.