#37b

I have passed my day sitting in the chair by the window peeping out from behind drawn curtains. There are three major changes to the world in which I live (four, taking into account the news concerning jaws).

I. We have a new post boy. He's a thin, pimply, red haired lad with cold sores all around his mouth. He looks like he'd leave a rash if he sucked your cock. Apart from his general unpleasantness, he is a full 12 minutes slower up and down the street than the old postie and he's forever knocking on doors asking for the letters back. I'm surprised he's even made it this far in life.
As for the old mail man, the happy fella in tight bulging shorts, one can only wonder what has become of him? He'd been delivering the mail ever since I moved in five years ago and by the look of him one would have thought he'd still be doing it 25 years from now. According to the little journals and notes I took he never missed a day, and in 2006 actually only took 18 of his accrued 20 days annual leave. I just hope his body isn't found all bashed up in a trash can somewhere.

II. Builders, but not your your normal type, these guys were strange - looked like actors or undercover policemen. I saw them coming down the road each holding the opposite end of a huge window frame. The one at the rear seemed to be pointing, telling the leader to cross the road, that he must do that now. As they passed my window they slowed right down to funeral pace and were both peering in my way. How they knew I was even there is a mystery: I was just an eye between an inch gap at the bottom of the curtains. Still, the oddest thing is what they were carrying. It was a window, but broken... perfectly broken. It was like a cartoon break, a jagged star like shape right in the centre. Even now that image sticks out and troubles me. It's as if the world is showing me a future which has already been decided.

III. Verity is free. Actually she was released two days ago but I was still fuming over her drunken disclosure concerning John and secretly hoped she would come around and give me more thorough details. Of course she never did, just shat on me from a great height and left me to climb out myself. She has been bailed until the date for a court hearing is set. Until then she can continue to drive her car into roundabouts. Whether she is well, apologetic or still drunk, I don't know. It was a text I received and I never called or answered  back. I get the feeling she's either being duped along with me or else she's in cahoots with the Devil himself. Sadly I think the latter is more probable.

IV. Jaws becomes ever more strange in his behaviour. Now he will no longer touch his 'Top Fin Fish Flakes' if I have so much as touched the packet. I get the impression he would allow himself to starve to death rather than feed from my hand. To be rejected by a goldfish is sad beyond words, especially for the likes of Tristram Spencer.