As the evenings festivities draw to a close, I slip outside to retrieve Sawney, allowing the dog to come in for the night as it were. As soon as he is through the door, he begins sniffing the air excitedly, had he a tail it would wag. Perhaps I shall give him one...

For now, the sun draws near on the horizon, and we must make our final preparations to slumber. As i descend the basement stairs, I cannot help but think of the crucial role, often overlooked, that is played by the bottom feeders, breaking down the disgusting organic matter that the higher orders have no use for and speeding its return to the carbon cycle.

Smiling to myself, I note that he has already brought my bag of earth down for me, perhaps he will last a bit longer than his predecessors after all.

Cleanup is not my gig. Neither is sleeping in dirty basements if it can be avoided. Since we have the whole house locked down i will make my way upstairs... tracking blood on the nice carpets.

Sawney can rip them up or clean them when he gets bored...

Im seeking the master bedroom, with all its windows covered. Im not so soft as to sleep in a bed. I wouldnt trust a mere window covering to protect me.. No, my intended restingplace is the large, windowless bathroom attached to the master bedroom.

The others would hear me dragging a large armoire onto the tile floor. I like to wedge my doors shut even if the slightest noise awakens me from my daytime slumber.

As Sawney has learned many times, I do not enjoy waking up during the day, but i am neither sluggish nor weak when i do.

So i wedge the armoire in front of the bathroom door so the little fuck knows im in there and dont wish to be disturbed.

My bed for the night will be the large bathtub, which easily hides my form and will allow me to easily clean up and prepare come sunset.

My electric pink bag is placed on the sink, full of tattoo needles and colored piercings. Random accessories to some, but to those who know...

My Body is a message.  

--Last edited by Dust on 2008-05-21 10:18:18 --

“Man oh man, Ah musta’ been smilin’ lahk a ass eatin’ briars the way Acid was eyeballin’ me when Ah come back in but Ah couldn’ hep it. Ah ain’t been so happy since pigs et mah baby brother. Ah’s so hongry Ah could eat a horse (an Ah don’ much care fer horse).”

“Wit mah trusty buck-knaf Ah git rhat tuh work, draggin them corpses, one atta go, inna tha big tub here inna downstairs terlot (some folk calls it a shitter, Ah calls it a terlot) ta skin em an clean em. This here famly gots a wash-tub tha size of a swimmin-hole. An’ since they ain’t got no blood in ‘em, the mess ain’t so bad, but still, ya wanna make sure and git alla their innards scooped out an’ seprate from the meat, else it tastes lahk shit. Iffin ya cut the pieces up good enuff, they go right down tha terlot (Ah mean tha shit-can, not tha room Ah’m in). Now ol’ Enoch, he has whahca call a penshunt fer innards, hearts, livers, kidneys, Hayull, sumtimes even brains, cept he lahks em fresh an’ hot as a flash-fried fox inna forst-fahr, so Ah don’ bother wit tryin tah save him nuthin’. ‘Sides, Ah can see he already done plucked what he wanted outa that one thur.”

“When Ah gits tah tha Missus, Ah cain’t hep but sneak a little piece tah chew on. Hoo boy, if she ain’t got tha sugar (tha’s die-uh-bee-tus ta you city-folk). Ah looks her rhat inna face an sez ‘Darlin yer so sweet you make mah teef hurt’. Ah could almost swer that she blushed. Ah’ll haftuh save her fer dessurt.”

“Ah carves mahsef a steak outta the boy fer supper, tha kids always seem to go bad right-quick (Hayull, that lil’ bastard was already spoilt afore we ever got here).” As fer tha rest, Ah’ll jus turn this here room into a little frigerater, same as Ah always do, seal up all tha other vents inna house cept this’un and crank tha air-cundishner up all tha way. The control-box wit tha tempechur-gauge bein’ inna other room, tha machine jus’ stays on all the time. Wit a lil’ duct-tape round tha door, ya git yerself a nice little ice-box tuh go rummagin’ ‘round in whennever you git a hankerin’, and the others don’ mahnd, they ain’t got no use fer a terlot no how.”

Well, ‘cept fer Dust up thar, but she got’s her own as usual. Sun ain’t even down yet an Ah can hear her lil’ rat-uh-tat machine hummin’ away up thar. She mus’ be gettin hersef all painted up. Ah guess that means we’ll be goin’ out tuhnite.”

“Once Ah done et suffishunt, (meanin’ fuller than a tick in a bukkit fulla’ blood), Ah’ll git tah clanin’ up the rest of this here house afore she comes down here an Ah’m stuck between the Devil an tha deep blue sea.”

When I finally rouse from my quotidian hibernation, I immediately seek out Sawney and send him on yet another errand. We have some information from our mole, a few targets, a few locales, but not nearly enough for our strike to commence.

Sawney has thus far proven to be even more useful than that wretched little creature that was under the mistaken impression we were buying secrets. There are only a few more places We need to know about, and I am confident that Sawney's versatility will allow him to find what he hunts this day.