An Apology

I guess I sort of over reacted to the Bhutto assassination. Maybe it was the dope Fenris gave me for Christmas.

I went for my bunker, that is what I did. It was 2:15 in the afternoon, that is what the battery clock says. I had just gotten up from my late night and early morning binge of whores, whiskey, and drugs.

I have a nice bunker. It has a cot with warm blankets, flannel sheets, and two new fluffy pillows. There is plenty to eat, for a month. And the air will last a week. I crashed there, took the blue anti-radiation pills that Fenris left me as his gift when I bought the bunker from his friends * general contracting front operation . The anti-radiation pills helped me to calm down. I started smoking. There was a computer filled with interesting survivalist training videos.

The videos taught me alot, fast. I changed into black combat fatigues, combat boots, light combat armor, and armed myself with a gas mask, bio-radio-chemical sniffer, and guns, knives, and two grenades.

My tenant was the first one of the survivors that I encountered. He was asleep. It was night. He lives (er, lived) in the basement apartment of my house. I used my key (as landlord), to let myself silently into his home. I padded up to where I could hear him snoring. I was wearing my rubber soled boots. I was walking on the carpet and underlay that I had installed myself only a few months ago. It would be silent and stainless.

I shot him in the back of the head, just like the training video said. Boy, did it make a big mess. Skull dome fragments and greasy blobs of brain all over the bed, carpet, and tray of food he had left by his bed. I wrapped his messy neck/stump in an ultramarine blue cotton bath sheet. Then, I took him to the garage, and there I spent three hours butchering his carcass and feeding the better cuts into the smoker * . The guts I made into a soup for the raccoons. I used my sister's kitchen pots.

While I was busy in the garage, my dog, Wargwelp, a breed from Wallachia, cleaned up the mess in the basement. Eating a little 'people food' would keep his black coat glossy, Fenris told me.

I took another anti-radiation pill. The palms of my hands were getting itchy, and the only thing that kept away that feeling of cockroaches crawling on my skin was one of those blue anti-radiation capsules that Fenris gave me as his gift when I had this bunker built.

What beautiful weapons I have in my bunker. I cleaned the greasy blood off most of my fatigues before I decided to strip naked and just have a long, hot shower. Fenris had put a wide screen monitor in the bathroom-shower module. It was done in a subdued periwinkle tile, and had radiant heating. While I bathed in a soothing mist of tropical oils and citrus, the Voice of Fenris coached me on my next move. Those moves all involved making a reconnaisance in force on the radioactive surface of Toronto after a nuclear strike.

Unfortunately, it turns out there was no nuclear sort of war after that Bhutto woman was assassinated. I felt silly. I cleaned out my tenants bank accounts and credit cards. I ran up his over draft to max. His rent cheque for January will bounce, then I can evict him, seize his property, and sell his legs as pastrami. I am ahead 8 large, but now I need to find another tenant.

So, I am sorry I mis-judged the situation. I turned my tenant into bacon for a long Nuclear Winter before I should have. Oops.

So, lets just get on with Holiday Festival, shall we?

I, Sejanus, wrote this.

I need more anti-radiation pills. Only Fenris has them. I can feel the radiation spiders gather closer as the magic ingredients wear off. I need more anti-radiation pills. Only Fenris has them. Send me your money so that I can send Fenris your money so that I can have more anti-radiation pills.