Current mood: Until Tomorrow
I am alone today and tonight, in my house in the country. Magpies squawk and cackle outside, alerting thieves and never-do-wells to my location and situation, as it were. I try to shut them up by throwing cats at them, high in the trees, but they laugh at me in an Orson Wellian tone. I can't think for them.
I don't imagine I'll be sleeping tonight for the fear has crept into my bone marrow, cold and unforgiving. Not even a blend of tea and golden honey, straight from the bees breast, can calm my nerves. I weap for my soul, soon to be set free to tear down large buildings, much too large for a simple human my size in such a decrepit physical state. When the murderers and killers get me, my soul shall fucking strip them of their skin.