posted on Feb, 22 2007 @ 04:22 PM
Well things have certainly changed since my last posting.
Sissy has left, I think she saw the change in me and didn't
I've become more muscular, I rarely bathe and tend to wear
a vest and karki pants. My features have become craggy and
a strong stubble covers my square jaw.
Also, Sissy frowned at my cigar smoking, a stogie gripped
between my clenched teeth.
My calf-length desert boots have tramped dirt into the house
and my cursing made Sissy let the home go into disarry.
I've six notches on my back-pack, six dead aliens goddam it.
I rarely sleep now, vigilence is my credo, my red-rimmed eyes
scan for the visitor and god help him if he wanders onto my turf.
With the last of my savings, I bought a second-hand fireman's hose
and pump truck from a farm sale.
My killer cocktail is urine, mostly obtained from a deal with a farmer
and his livestock. Also industrial bleach, lime and street-gritting salt
from the gritting bins along the motorways.
I still fill my back-pack for... shall we say close encounters, but five
of my slayings were done with the fire hose.
I'm alone now, no trust, no love, just a lone gunner at his post and
watching the skies.
I'll be selling my computer soon, for funds to upkeep my vigil.
Who knows where this'll end.
Thanks guys for helpin' me see sense.
Sgt Wardog signin' off.
[edit on 22-2-2007 by IronMan]