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BOMB SHELTER! BOMB SHELTER! BOMB SHELTER! BOMB SHELTER! - July 14th, 2005

July 14th, 2005

July 14th, 2005
09:30 pm

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Mr. Turtle's terrarium
So the kids' sandbox, which is this big plastic turtle with a shell cover, really got funky over the winter. The sand is covered with all kinds of neat lichens and mosses, like the landscape of an alien planet. However, I'd like to put the sandbox back in use and the dog run needed more sand, so I dug it up.

Poor lichens, their Level 0 attacks useless against the onslaught of the shovel. The only power that wet sand has is Hasten Oxidation of Ferrous Materials, but that will take too long to be any use to them. The few that survive find themselves in a new land, drier, but perhaps they could make a home of it?

Morning brings a deluge of dog piss. This new world cares naught for us. Who will tell our mossy stories? We are lost to the sands of time.

That would make a better War of the Worlds then Tom Cruise running around saving some kid from peril.

Current Music: Bad Brains - The Big Takeover

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TimeEvent
09:45 pm

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Dorks in the 'hood
So after a day of weeding, pruning, shoveling, and extreme childcare, I was damn thirsty. I walked down the hill to the Shell station to get something to drink.

I'm usually wary when I get a block from Rainier, because there's a big vacant lot where drunks like to lie around and piss themselves. Instead I see a couple of Viets. On the opposite corner, there is a pho restaurant with a bar in the rear that is a big Viet hangout. It was even more so back when it was a pool hall. Every unemployed Viet male sponging off his mom whiled away the hours there.

One of the guys is kind of old to be hanging out. He's got a buzzed head and, if not for his pastel shirt and khaki shorts, he could pass for a monk. The other guy is taller, a lot younger, and jug-eared. They both have 64-oz cups from the Shell station.

They don't look drunk though. They're bobbing their heads and looking around a lot, so I know they're up to something. Then some POS Cutlass Cierra with rims worth more than the car itself booms by. These guys get all fidgety, craning their necks, but nothing happens.

I see them in the parking lot of the Shell station after I got something drink doing the same thing. Now I'm thinking they were looking to buy drugs, but didn't really know how. I should have come back with a baggie of flour and sold them the good shit. Peace out!

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