The fruits of boredom and dark humor!
I wake up, sometime around noon, I think. I used to have a clock by my bed, but one day it said it was 3:27. I don't like that time, so I threw the clock out the window. It hit my elderly neighbor in the back of the head; he stumbled forwards and tripped over a hose, and fell through a large glass plate that was leaning against the house. Oh well.
I stumble out into my living room. It's really cold out, so I walk over to the closet near the fireplace and pull out one of the napalm canisters I stole from my uncle's shack in Montana two years ago. He said he wouldn't need them until after World War III, so I guessed he wouldn't miss a few.
I bring the canister over to the fireplace. I look around and find that there aren't any logs. I decide to go out back to the back yard to see if I have any left. I have to go out the front; last summer a tornado drove an orphan straight through my deck, and I can't afford to replace two support beams she was slammed through. I put down the canister, and walk down the hall, and go out the front door. I look down at the porch. What luck; there's a pile of logs by the mail box, covered in dark red dried sap. I grab a few of the bigger logs and head in.
I set up the logs, and cover them with a bit of napalm. Last month I learned how strong my Uncle's homebrew napalm is. My cat misses her left ear. I miss my eyebrows. Oh well.
I walk over to the couch and grab the crossbow that's always sitting on my makeshift end table/ wine crate. As always, it's loaded. I peel a strip of bacon off of the T.V. set and wrap it around the arrow head.
I pat my pockets for matches; none. I remember that I used the rest of them last week to keep the squirrels out the flower box beneath my window, the one with the plastic rosebush in it. I look around for the lighter I found in the gutter two months ago. Then I realize I used it to light the matches last Wednesday. Oh well.
I go into the kitchen and put the arrow in the microwave. Like every other time I put metal in the microwave, the arrowhead shoots sparks in a cheap fireworks display, lighting the greasy bacon. Quickly, I grab the crossbow and load it with the flaming bacon arrow, and dash out into the living room, dripping flaming grease all over the rug.
In my mind, I have a great picture of what will happen; I'll jump through the air, fire the crossbow one-handed, and dive behind the couch seconds before the explosion throws shards of blazing wood at me.
As always, it doesn't go the way I want. I manage to dive through the air, but I land on the top of the couch, fall off backwards, and land spine-first on an empty can of tomato paste. However, I do manage to shoot the bow one-handed; the arrow punches a small hole in the ceiling above my coffee table before dripping flaming bacon fat onto the three-year old back issues Field and Stream I borrowed from the library a couple of weeks ago. Oh well.
I fumble to stand up, and flop over onto the couch. I can't breath after falling on that couch, but I do grab one of those annoying AOL CD's that I get in the mail more often than anything from my family. I've had lots of experience throwing the CD's across the street whenever Mr. D-something-or-other tries to dump animal guts in my lawn. I aim, and knock the arrow out of the celing, and on to the floor.
I roll the arrow onto my foot before remembering I don't have any shoes on. It's all I can manage to stand on my feet while kicking the arrow into the fireplace. But, as soon as it touches the logs, it explodes, and throws me into the opposing wall. I drop five feet to land of the same can of tomato paste as before.
Well, now I don't have anymore, but jus' for now. Tell me what you think, my email is in the lobby on the way in.