Waffle House = Love

If there's a better restaurant in the world, I'd burn it down.  Because no place in the world deserves to hold the title of "Better Than Waffle House."

But, that aside.  Me and Spender had quite the night, last night.  As we speak, he's rattling away at his own keyboard, most likely trying to talk about today.  He's gratefully agreed to let me chronicle the events of last night.  And hoo boy, were they pretty big.  I'm gonna have trouble starting off, even...

Well, it was about 2 when that fucktard rolled up to my house, like RIGHT UP TO IT, and did some sort of duck and roll out of the passenger's seat as it was still braking to a halt.  I was looking out the window, and I pretty much had to run out the front door to stop Spender from shooting someone when they looked outside.  Then he tells me that he's still being chased?  What the fuck, Spender?  What did you expect ME to do about it?

Well, at least I had enough time to remember that we had an attic; a fact that escaped my memory for about ten years.  I swear, my father never even LOOKED at that thing, and it was just a stroke of luck I looked up while I was peeking around.  So, after about 5 minutes of tugging, we pulled it down, and I nearly got brained by a falling ladder.  After getting Spender to stop laughing for 6 seconds, I managed to stow him away, and had just enough time to slip a knife into my sleeve, sit on the couch, and figure out how the hell I was gonna deal with these guys.  I think I managed a ten count before another car came up.

This was one of those big black vans we all hear about, and I swear, I was almost ready for SWAT to rappel in from the sides of my house.  But I managed to open my door, looking as sympathetic as I could.  Called the guys in, and then pointed out some places a refugee might be hiding out; luckily for us, there were 6 places to hide, and only 5 guys.  I also conveniently forgot to mention the attic.  Two or three of them were limping, so I let them keep inside, while the others decided to check the backyard, and the bathrooms.

Of course, none of them thought twice about letting a college student follow the obvious leader outside.  A college student with a bookbag.  A bookbag that weighed maybe thirty pounds.  He turned to check around a corner of the house, and I hit him so hard, he didn't even have time to turn around.  I think he was still twitching, but I didn't really stop to check.  I just threw the door open, screamed as loud as I could, and watched those guys run outside as fast as they could.  Luckily, Spender was smart enough to take his moment.  He dropped from the ceiling onto one of the guys, and I'm pretty sure he just clubbed the guy with whatever he had in his hand at the moment.  Not quick enough to stop a shot, though.

The three guys left all turned to the bullets, and that's about when my dog decided he wanted nothing to do with these guys.  My dog, for those wondering, is a pitbull and rotweiller mix.  He has jaws that can go through a tire; I've seen it.  Those things snapped shut around a guy's leg, and he was down on one knee before he even knew it.  THAT gun went off, and just about singed off my dog's hairs.  He might have taken another shot if I hadn't gotten that knife in his side around then.

The last two were about ready to shoot me in the face when Spender's OTHER friend pretty much tackled one of them from the side.  How the fuck did they not think to check the car?  I guess because I had been so accomodating, or maybe just because they had all taken large doses of PCP before they got out of the vehicle.  Considering their vacant expressions, that's quite possible.  Anyways, that guy went down, and the last one made a shot for me.  I can still feel the scab on my hip where it hit.  Of course, that was when Spender managed to wrench the gun from the last guy, and plant a few in his back.

Fun times.  Barely managed to clean the blood from the carpet, and stow the bodies in our shed, before we left.  I think Spender called one of his guys to find a dump spot, because they were gone when I got back from school.

I guess that's all, really.  Just gotta decide what to do with the guy I knocked out.  I THINK he's still alive, and tied up next to the water heater.  Should I get him something to eat?  I mean...starvation is pretty uncool.

Then again, so is trying to shoot a dog.  Oh well, I'll figure something out.

-The Meteorologist