Mexicans (3/23/09)

My family and I are in the living room (old house) when the mexicans beat the door down. Other than the beating of the door they don't seem violent. They just want some stuff in the kitchen. We ignore them. My cat Sneakers is in the window with no screen. Another cat unknown to us is in the window with a screen. This new cat walks up to the screen-less window where Sneakers is relaxing and forces her out of it. We hear a thud on the lawn.
Fuck.
I run out to the flower bush and my cat is twitching on the ground.

Peach Muffins (3/2/09)

My grandfather is back, again, and I'm in the old house, again. More specifically, I am in the kitchen. I had just made a batch of those peach muffins with that recipe from Lyman Orchard that came out really good with PYO* peaches but not so good with canned peaches. I had used canned peaches this time, sadly. They were kinda eh. A lot EH actually. Almost really bad. I had alot of them, and I'd probably take them to work, as those tards will eat anything left unattended.

My grandfather was in the kitchen investigating the cooling racks. I offered him some of the muffins. IDK, just because I hate them does not mean that they are inedible to other people. He takes one into his hand and has a bite. He takes one into his other hand and has a bite. Before I can stop him He cuts into the giant muffin (It's some gaudy cake pan set that looks like the bottom of a cupcake and the top of a cup cake that you put together after you bake them. You can buy it in the Skymall catalog, or at Hobby Lobby/A.C. Moore/Jo Ann etc...) and starts scooping out the peach jam filling I put in it. Weird. It was stupid looking anyways.

My grandfather starts telling me of his new house and his new roommate. I look into the backyard and I see the roommate and a bright red sports car.


*PYO= Pick Your Own. If produce in your area is available for PYO, do it! It's the best! PickYourOwn.org

The Temp (2/22/2009)

IRL= My Grandfather died 2 weeks ago.

Dream= My Grandfather is back. Temporarily.

It's sorof like a benign zombie. No brain cravings. Just a regular guy who will die again unexpectedly in the near future. Not really sure where he came from, who resurected him, or why he (or even WE actually) were in our old house. He was in the brown armchair.

Knowing of his condition I kept asking him "How are you feeling?" to which he would reply "Why do you keep asking me that?"
Weird. Gross morbid and weird.

One day I am walking up the steps that lead from the front door into the kitchen and I see him slumped over forward in the armchair. I call to my dad to come to the room to figure out what to do with the expired zombie. The sound of my entrance and call for help woke him up. He was just sleeping.

War (9/4/08)

I wake up today and there is a war going on in our yard (at the old house).
A tank and some army guys are in the garage and they are firing off rounds at the enemy from the driveway. You can see the tracers going off into the sky. I really have no idea who the enemy is, or why the war is in our yard. I wonder if I should bring refreshments to the army guys in the garage.

I'm asking my mom about the war when I start to see incoming tracers. I tell my mom I love her and then I go take cover on the back porch. At some point I decide to go out into the back yard. As I'm walking back around to the front yard I see a figure stand up from the garden. They are covered in dirt and twigs like they had just crawled her through the dirt and came up through the garden. The figure has a machine gun. I yell to the arm guys for help as I get shot (a lot). The army guys come over and catch the figure. Under all that dirt and stick camoflage is a grimey blonde woman with missing teeth. The enemy? The army guys beat her up but are careful not to kill her. They need info from her.

I wake up in a hospital. One of the comanding officers from the garage is there too. They replaced his blood with a high protien blue liquid. It was kinda cool.