2004.02.23
Satchel Chapter Two
At long last, chapter to in the story of one young gentleman named Charles Percival Walters IV, better known as Satchel. The first chapter can be found here. Meanwhile, (try to) enjoy the new material!
I had to bathe Emil in pesticide again after work. As much as I enjoy his fruitless struggling, the cost of pesticide is getting to be a bit much. Luckily I’m able to knick most of what I need from work. The groundskeeper doesn’t pay a lot of attention to his stores. I question if the effort is having the desired effect. I’ll have to consider something more potent.
Work, ignoring the working, was as entertaining as ever. Her Holy Highness was holding court over us “peasants” — those of us not worthy of having any input into our own futures. Every day it makes me pray for revolution… and that I don’t get caught anywhere near the front lines of it. As much as I pray to see blood at work, I really don’t want it to be mine. That’s why I’ve cleared out a hiding place for myself in the airconditioning vents. Thank heavens for industrial ventillation. Soon I will have the entire building mapped and will be able to strike from anywhere. I’ve been putting together stores of Cup-O-Noodles in some of the ventillation ducts too. I’ve taped these caches down so they won’t blow around and make a racket. Still, I noticed some of the caches were pilfered like the sandwiches at home. Emil would be the problem. He’s seen too much and I can’t be sure he will stay quiet. I’ll have to wait till he is gone before I can move on with the plan.
(later)
Emil escaped again! My first reaction was to just let him rough it. Sooner or later he’d end up dead and trouble me no more… but… I fear I’m actually too kind at heart. A quality I’m becoming more and more convinced will be my downfall. If it wasn’t for my weakness regarding Emil, J. would be giving me her attentions instead of him. Anyways…
I went about my business for a few hours, trying to put Emil out of my mind. Yet when I went down to the Jihad-a-lotÆ I saw Emil and Jamal talking to a small yap dog about something. I mean really *talking*! To a small canine! The dog had a little bandana around his neck and when I approached he, Emil, and Jamal all shut up and two Asian girls appeared out of nowhere and spirited the little doggie away. One of the girls was “big boned” and the other one was thin with long, blood-red hair. They took the puppy into the back of a Lincoln Town Car and drove off. Jamal was cordial, but a bit furtive for some reason. Whatever. Just as long as he’s not angry at me.
In any event, Emil seems to have picked up a raging case of conjunctivitis, probably from the dirty little pup, and he just ate and ate and ate all night. I should have just left him outside to rot. He’s costing me a fortune in food. He already ate my fucking sandwiches. Lock and key from now on, that’s for sure. If only I had enough money to keep him sedated. I’d put liquor in his food, but I’m afraid that he would just get violent in his drunkenness. That would be my luck. Emil’s luck is always against me. So I kicked back with a tall Jihad-a-lattÈ watching Emil frolic about the bedroom. For all his appearences of illness and coy looks, there is quite a bit of energy left in him. If I can’t find something more potent for his bathes I may have to up their frequency at least.
We have new neighbors; Mr. & Mrs. G. I’m not sure but I think they might not be such a good addition to the building. All those unlabeled boxes. I spent quite a while watching them through the fish-eye of the peep-hole as they carried things up the stairs. At some point I will have to talk to them. I began making plans of what I should say but Emil spent a long time in one place and I finally realised he was touching himself again. More when I’ve cleaned up.
Been thinking about the whole thing with Jamal, Emil and the Bandana-Dog. They had to be talking about me. Why else would they have gone so suddenly silent? So the next question comes in: what were they saying? Nothing good I’ll warrant. Emil never has anything good to say about me. Often I have heard him muttering and I wonder if he wants to be rid of me as much as I want to be rid of him. What might he be plotting, even as I am bathing him in Round-Up?
I saw one of the girls from Jihad-a-lotÆ at work today! The one with the blood-red hair. Her name is Coco or something and she’s the new vice-president of “production”. She showed up today wearing Prada and a pair of very dark Sanrio sunglasses. Told everyone she was really “excited” (ugh!) to be working with us all, but that she’d had a late night. Then she just took off her spiked heels, curled up on a couch in the conference room and fell asleep! Holy Infitada! She’s got Balls! I think I like her, but I’m not sure why… I think it’s something about the way she smells. In the meantime, I’ve added Coco’s shoes to one of my ventillation stockpiles. They could be useful when the revolution comes…
Emil went positively batty when I got home today. Sniffing and licking me nonstop like a dirty little piggie! He must smell that woman; she shook my hand at work today when she was making the rounds introducing herself. Something is afoot. And I think its time to have a frank talk with Jamal…
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