The House

   Yo.  I, the one called Owen Tucker, have returned.  Because it’s Thursday, and I’m always here on Thursday.  Don’t believe, check back.  Just, not too far.  I wasn’t always here, now that I think about it.  There was this other guy, named Fred, who was here on Thursdays for a while.  But he wasn’t near as awesome as I am.  I mean, just look at our names.  Fred.  Owen Tucker.  I think we can all see who’s got this (and that’s me, in case you can’t see). 
   Yesterday was the 4th of July, if you didn’t know.  We had fireworks and explosions and boomy thingies.  Wilfred nearly got shot, slapped, and all around killed several times.  With his accent he sounds real funny when he gets mad.  But he also gets a bit colorful, so I can’t give you an example of what he says. 
Anyway, journal thingy time!
   7/5/2012:  On this date (that being the 7th of July in the year 2012) Wilfred was off someplace recovering from his ordeal, leaving me alone to amuse myself.  I was bored.  Out of desperation I shot of a few remaining firecrackers.  Then I stared at the remainders.  And stared at ‘em.  And stared at ‘em some more.  It was really quite fascinating.  If you want to be bored.  Which, unfortunately for me, I didn’t.  So I had to find something else to do. 
   Like the ever resourceful guy I am, I decided to take a walk.  I walked down one street, and up another street.  There was a twig on one of these streets, but I ignored it.  The last one I picked up was nothing but a dud, so there was no way I was falling for that again.  Now a special type of woodchip, that might’ve been able to get my attention, but I didn’t see any of those. 
   I walked down a few more streets, but I was in the boring part of the neighborhood where everything looked the same because, well, everything was the same.  One of those modern neighborhoods where pretty much every house looks just like the other one.  So I found me a street to turn down that would take me to a more classical neighborhood.  A more stylish place.  With grown trees, nice lawns, and flowers and stuff like that there. 
   As I was walking through this cool new neighborhood, I spotted one of those long, winding, gravel driveways.  Y’know, the ones that go so far back you can’t even see the house.  Now I didn’t really feel like deviating from my path, so I just keep walking.  But then this squirrel darted out of nowhere and started hopping down the driveway.  That in itself wasn’t really unusual and didn’t capture any interest, until the little bugger started squeaking some real insulting things.  And if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s being insulted by a squirrel, so I chased it down the driveway.  The little bugger was speedy though.  It kept ahead of me for at least ten minutes.  On and on till I had left all the other houses in the neighborhood in the far distance.  Then I turned a corner and came to the end of the driveway and the squirrel disappeared.
   There, right in front of me, was a big ol’ castle-looking house.  I gaped at it a while, taking in the stone walls, medieval architecture and all that good junk, then I also noticed there were no cars, and the place was all overgrown with weeds.  I went up to the front door and knocked.  There was no answer.  I knocked again.  Still no answer.  A bit hesitantly, I turned the door handle.  It opened with a creak, but besides that, quite easily.  Inside it was mainly empty, just a few pieces of really old looking furniture and a lot of dust. 
   “Hello?” I called out.
   There was no answer.
   I grinned.  I had just found me an abandoned castle-house HQ!

   To be continued…hopefully…


  (From MichaeL Lostritto:  My apologies for the lateness of this post.  I will try to keep it from happening again)