Mostly my dreams are just me and Miss Punchable, but sometimes there's a nice change of pace. Like meadows and unicorns and rifles and shit. Every night I go to sleep I hope for another occurrence of the Jeanette Cotton: Unicorn Hunter dream.
Last night was a change of pace, but not the nice kind. Stupid fucking nightmare.
Anyway, I broke into someone's house last night and used it to get some rest. I think they're on vacation, which is why I picked the place--the house had all the signs of dog ownership but not a mutt in sight. Guess I'm lucky it hadn't just died recently.
No idea how long they'll be gone, though. I shouldn't linger here too long but I just wanted to be under a roof for a while. Also, it's good to be somewhere with decent fucking toiletries for fucking once.
Oh hey, clothes my size, too. Oh. My. God.
Is that a fucking Stetson?
Hell yes it's a fucking Stetson, bitch.
It fits.
Fuck. Yes.
Our Protagonist, ladies and gentlemen: Breaking into people's fucking homes, taking a shower, and stealing their fucking accessories.
It's a tortured existence I lead.
