Guest Author Tonight

This would be “the untrustworthy guy with insane reflexes” talking. Kay asked me to post an update for her. Why me and not her? Well she’s currently lying on her couch with an icepack on her head. She tried to get up to post herself, I threatened to sit on her if she didn’t lay back down, and we came to the compromise that I would tell you people why exactly she’s not allowed to get off the couch until I’m sure she doesn’t have anything more severe then a concussion. After all making sure people she never has and never will meet know all the details of her life is more important then the fact that she’s still tilting from side to side every time she tries to sit up. Oh and making dinner. Can’t forget how life threatening that is.

I mean really what is with this chick? Slender Man hangs out in her backyard night after night, people break into her house and try to kidnap her, and she’s making cookies? Guess I shouldn’t complain too much. This is the best food I’ve eaten since before I started running, but what kind of a loon thinks getting her meatloaf out of the oven is more important then recovering from getting clocked in the head? I ain’t gonna lie though, woman makes one of the best damn meatloafs I’ve ever tasted.

Getting the look of death over here right now. She’s got herself propped up enough that she can see what I’m typing. And she’s bitching at me to stop talking about her and just type what happened. Problem being that even if she wasn’t dazed as all hell right now, she wouldn’t be very intimidating. Girl’s so damn tiny her hair probably weighs more then she does.

All right, all right, jeez. Better start typing what happened before she kills herself trying to get to the computer. So whichever of His followers that have been targeting her probably didn’t get the memo that she has a temporary roommate. I’m sitting in her living room, checking some maps, trying to figure out which direction is a good one to go in next. Try not to stay in one place for too long. She’s in the kitchen cooking and she must have been having a damn good time because she was singing while she did whatever it is she does in there.

So there’s a thud, the singing cuts off, and she makes this squeaking sound. Yes you did squeak. You can insist that you didn’t squeak all you want, but you squeaked. For Christ sake you should be grateful you squeaked! Me hearing it saved your life didn’t it?

Anyway, she squeaks and I go running into the kitchen just in time to see some guy wearing a mask (not one of those Marble Hornet type things, just a ski mask), holding a lead pipe and tossing her over his shoulder. He sees me and throws her unconscious body on the ground like it’s a duffle bag. Comes at me with the pipe and we start trying to wrestle each other for it while he rants about "He is coming and will destroy us all". Nothing I haven't heard before.

I ain’t a small guy, but barely eating and sleeping in any damn alley corner I can find for the past few months hasn't really helped me stay in top fighting form. He gets me down on the ground and is pushing the pipe against my throat. I’ve got black spots starting to appear in front of my eyes and I’m thinking my time is up when there’s a big metallic clang sound.
The kidnapper lets go of the pipe and rolls off of me while grabbing at his head. There’s Kay standing over the both of us holding a god damned frying pan like it’s a baseball bat. She’s also swaying back and forth like a drunk on a Saturday night. He tries to push to his feet so she tries to clock the guy again. Unluckily for her, he dodges and the forward swing makes her lose her balance and fall on top of me. Asshole bolts out the back door while I’m trying to simultaneously get out from under her without knocking her around anymore then she already was and get back the breath that the lead pipe and her falling on my solar plexus took away from me.

He apparently climbed in through the back window. She swears it was closed and locked and if it was one of His guys, I have no doubt that it was before He decided to send someone in after her. I’m gonna try and figure out something with the ones on the ground floor for her to keep that from happening again. We ended up ok this time because the asshole thought she was alone, but He’s gonna know that there are two of us here now. I, uh hate to think what would have happened if she was here alone.

She can’t keep her balance for shit right now and she’s got a nice sized lump on the back of her head from where he cracked her, but other then that she seems like she’s gonna be ok. And if she stops trying to get up when she’s still dizzy I might even give her back her Blackberry so she can respond to anyone reading this. God trying to separate her from her blog is like trying to take a crack pipe away from a junkie.

Oh and I’m supposed to tell Lucien that she’s ok, but if you don’t want to believe the strange man’s story to call the house line.