Letter of Absence

To those who actually care,

This town has nothing left for me. I moved here, thinking it would be a nice place. I was wrong. Things have not been going well whatsoevere. All of you are crazy. Never have i had idol chit-chat, and not beening able to speak. If any of you heard me in a crowd, you wouldnt know it was me. No, it's hey do this! Or hey, give this to her! Or, wait thats his! And for what? Some junk i'll never use?

This brings me to my next point: my house is empty. Since the first day I arrived. I've had to pawn everything I own, just to pay off some, ever growing dept. the only friend that has ever listened to me, been there for me, was the dog. But he only comes once a week, so his companionship is very brief.

My house has never been nice. A bed, radio, notebook, and a tombstone out front. But boy is it big. My landlord made sure of that. I can never actually go in without thoughts of suiside. Because every night, I dream. I dream of one of the city folk staring at me. They are in a dark room with one light, staring, asking me questions, acting like they don't know or recognize me. I've never had these dreams before coming here.

You people move so much. I figure this move will slip through the cracks. With everyone taking places all over town, in great places, like by the river and beach, or even in densly wooded areas, making it hard to menover through town. I just want to look at those people and axe them. Like all the trees i had before. Oh how many stings I've suffered, just trying to clear walking room in town.

Of the whole wild world, i had to choose this place. Where a sailor can just wash asure, nearly dead, his body cold and near the point of no return. For saving him, more useless junk to pawn. That's all my life is, get stuff and pawn it. All I have now is my spade. My spade, and my intentions. Oh my intentions. If I wasn't catching the next train out, I had some plans. I would start with my landlord, the money grubing bastard. I ask for an extesion, he provides it. I pay him back, and he makes it bigger, thus furthering my dept. I would take him into that store and beat him with his own merchandise. All of his overpriced merchandise, until he wished he was dead. Take that pressious apron of his, and hang him with it. Right in his store, for all to see. Next would come the fat one. All of the apples i gave him, all of the time shaking trees, getting stung, and for what? So a glutton can stuff his face and say i didnt do well enough? He would get apples and bees shoved down his thoat. Slowly the bees would sting his insides, closing the air hole in his throat, causing a slow and painful suffocation. Next, the old women that comes on sundays. Every first sunday. Just a simple knock of her cane, a push in the river, that would do. The weight of her luggage would easily pull her to the bottom. Then, the vender. Blocking his tent with an overpriced, fake piece of merdesdise and lighting the place a flame should do. Watching him burn would pay him back in the most satisfying way possible.

But as I said, I've got a train to catch. I'm turning a new leave! I heard the guys over at Smash Bros. needed a new member, so I thought I would qualify.

It's been a shitty time, -The Villager