Saturday, July 31

I'm sitting in my room drawing sad pictures in my sketchbook when I hear Mr. Happy Puppet Head calling me from his room.

"Hey! Midnight! Come here real quick, hurry! Hey!"

So I run over to the next room real quick. I find him all hovering in the top corner of the room shaking. "What's wrong?" I ask him. He says, "Over there." He gestures over to a pile of empty beer bottles. It's a roach. A big brown black thing just hanging out on the floor.

"You're scared of a roach?" I ask.

"Shutup and squish it."

I don't feel like killing tonight, so I pick up a glass jar full of cigarette butts and dump it into the trash can next to his bed. Very carefully I lean down and trap the bug in the jar. It freaks out and jumps all over the place. I slide a piece of paper underneath so he can't get out when I flip it over.

"What the... what're you doing? Squish it." Mr. Happy Puppet Head has come down from the ceiling, but still doesn't look too sure of himself.

"Don't worry, I'm just taking him out of the house."

We walk down the street. It's late and dark and no one else is around. Quiet and peacefull is the world.

"I'll kill you mother fucker!" shouts Mr. Happy Puppet Head. "Next time you think you're going to walk all over my room, you'll be fucking dead! Yeah!"

"Shhhh."

"Yeah. And you tell your family," he whispers loudly. ""Cause we're spraying for you assholes. First thing tommorow. So you're all dead, right? Dead!"

We let the roach go about a block and half from the house. It looked pretty shaken up. "He's right," I tell it. "Don't come back. Go live your happy little life in the woods or lawn or something. People-houses are dangerous. You're just looking for trouble." It runs away real fast, and we watch it to make sure it isn't heading back to our house.

"Yeah!" Mr. Happy Puppet Head yells, his word echoing off of the nearby houses. "Get on, bug!"

Sad Sketchbook page 1
Sad Sketchbook page 2
Sad Sketchbook page 3

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