No fuck killing the kids, you guys were right. I'm not a fucking baby-killer. I was raised fucking better than this.

I'll give them some choice blogs and my email address. Or something, fuck, I don't know. Something that'll help when their imaginary friend comes back in six to ten years.

I really shouldn't go looking for them today. I really shouldn't. My arm's still fucked up.

Shit, I wish I was Dean Winchester, and not for the first time, either. Well, I mean, without the whiny little brother and celestial conspiracy bullshit and the whole dying all the fucking time thing. I could just use an awesome car, a trunk full of weapons, and, more importantly, a bunch of fake fucking ids and a fake insurance card. That would be fucking rad.

Instead I have a revolver, three fucking bullets (and three more bullets MIA), a buck knife, and the fucking public transportation system.

Shit, maybe I should look into credit card fraud. TV makes it look pretty fucking easy.

Sorry. I'm still kind of enraged and on a fucking whining streak. I don't get a fucking rest period. I don't get a week or two to have my arm heal. I don't even get any fucking codeine.

I mean, fuck. If I'm not Made of Fucking Adamantium by the time all this Smiling Man bullshit kills me, I'll be really fucking surprised. Also, dead.

I'm going to go find those kids. I'm leaving as soon as this gets posted. Then, after I find them, I am going to shove my revolver so far up the ass of the first Eldritch Abomination or its fucking servant I fucking meet that when I pull the hammer back, its teeth are going to rattle.

Even if it doesn't have fucking teeth.

So much fucking rage.

Plans

I need more bullets.

I don't go through many, but I have a feeling I'm gonna need them.

Not that Smiley cares what I "kill" him with, anyway. But I like the Colt. Revolvers are pretty fucking awesome. Also, pretty easy to hide. Well. I mean. It's not that easy to hide...but it's easier to hide than the shotgun, anyway.

I just wish it wasn't called the 'Anaconda.' You can tell what the marketing team was thinking.

"Hey, boys, come get your surrogate penis!"

You might think I'm joking. You should see how some boys get when a girl talks about liking guns or hunting around them. It's....not pretty. Trust me. You'd think they'd be less dumb around a girl who they know has recreationaly taken life before, but for some reason teenage boys seem to believe they're more deserving of life than deer. It's a crazy fucking world we live in, isn't it?

All joking aside, that's one of the advantages of monster hunting. I don't have to deal with teenage boys who think that "I want to have a conversation about a shared interest" means "I want to have sex with you."

Anyway, I'm gonna be in Boston tomorrow. It looks like Smiley is taking them young, there. A little boy and a little girl have been taken. It's breaking its pattern a bit, though. Both kids were taken at once (I think they're brother and sister), and the bouquet was delivered at the same time, if what I'm reading is right. It's hard to get info on him, since one of the vast shadowy anti-monster conspiracies seems to be censoring the news on Smiley.

This is new territory for Smiley. That bothers me. I liked it more when he was a creature of habit. It's also...similar to someone else's MO. I think you know who I mean, too. It could be that instead of Smiley, I'm about to pull a Strahm and try to shoot Tall Dark And Faceless. That is not something I want to try. I'm not that suicidal. Yet.

And if it is Smiley, an experimental phase can't be good. For anyone.