Garbage.net – My Blog, My Life

I am currently writing this from underneath the stairs trying to stay as quiet as possible.  I have never been more scared in my life.  A bizarre series of events have transpired in the past 72 hours.  I’m finally putting all the pieces together and I’m fairly certain the end is near.

Two days ago, we received a large crate shipment of cat treats.  I obviously thought it was some huge mixup since Nina is already huge without the treats.  So I called the company that sent the crate and they told me I had personally called last week around 6pm.  The lady said she recognized my voice and confirmed that the credit card was correct.  Even though this was extremely strange, I just kept telling myself this was someone’s idea of a joke and just forgot about it.

Then yesterday happens.  My parents had sent me a box with canned tuna from Spain (it’s amazing tuna).  I usually keep it in the box it’s shipped in and it usually lasts, I dunno, like 4 months.  I remember going upstairs for some chocolate milk.  Next thing I remember after that is waking up downstairs on the couch.  I woke up dazed and confused and proceeded to go upstairs.  When I get upstairs, the box of tuna is completely empty.  In the garbage can there are about 20 opened tuna cans, but no tuna anywhere.  Chris was at a school activity so there is no way she could’ve opened the tuna.  I go check on the cats and they are both sleeping on the bed like usual.  So I’m a little freaked out but I don’t tell anyone since Chris thinks I’m crazy enough already.

So finally today comes along.  I had to go to the attic to store a couple of boxes.  I get up there and this is the scene I see.  Plush carpet, indirect lighting, 3 cases of cat treats and 2 cat-sized couches.  I start to panic.  I think the cats have learned how to control my mind, put me in some sort of hypnosis.  How long has this been going on?  Did I remodel the attic without knowing?  Is this why I have cuts on my hands and why I’m exhausted every morning?  I need to try and escape.  I’m writing this just in case I don’t get out.

Oh no…  I hear an animal coming down the stairs and I don’t think it’s a pretty pony. Wish me luck, Wilbur.