Friday, 14 October 2011

-August- We're Taking The Job

We must have a death wish. 

Are you happy, you insane bastard? We'll do your damn delivery.

Jesus rollerblading christ, we must be out of our minds. We have to be completely and utterly insane. This is a trap. It doesn't take a genius to see that.

But if we don't take it...

Spencer hasn't gotten any better. Not that this really surprises anybody. I went into his office a little while after the 'final assignment' went up to find the boss kicking and screaming and clawing and...

I don't want to talk about it.

It's been roughly a week since Spencer came back and I don't think I've seen him leave his office once. I remember visiting him the night he got back, only to nearly end up with a vase to the face and some shattered glass around the House and in my foot. I'd go into detail, but I honestly think they're things better left unsaid. Not to mention the fact that there's a certain somebody who would take great pleasure in his pain and, in all honesty, I'm not willing to grant him that satisfaction.

I saw him again today after Writer's post went up. You could hear him screaming from the glass doors that separate the East Wing from the rest of the House. When I got to his office, there was smashing. Lots of smashing. Crashing, thumping, and the office was in tatters when I eventually went in. The glass from the vase nearly six days ago had been scattered about the room, and the floor had been clawed up.

And Spencer...

I don't want to talk about it.

Doc found me outside the office, scratched up and utterly exhausted. I'm throwing this post up quickly then going to relay the news to the rest of the team: we leave at eight o'clock. Sharp.

We'll try and keep you posted. You know how these things work.


  1. Oh ARE we. I for one, don't have a death wish. And this is the stupidest goddamn idea you've ever had, August.

    But frankly, I don't feel right letting a couple of kids go off alone with Spence, so at the very least, I will drop them off.

    Plus, the more he's with us? The less he's off chasing down you blokes off the web.

    And so help me if I get an excuse I will put a bullet in his skull, you just see if I don't.

  2. Listen, it's complicated. Meet me in the kitchen in twenty and I'll explain...

    Really, we don't have any other choice.

  3. Kindly avoid getting yourselves murdered. Even crazy people need someone to talk to after all.

  4. August, that's wildly inaccurate.

    Jesus never rollerbladed. That was an 80's thing. And everyone knows the 80's started when God just said 'Fuck it! I'm not dealing with this shit right now.' I don't really know where I'm going with this anymore, so bye.

    Stay frosty.

  5. Watch it, you guys. I don't even have to tell you how bad an idea this is...sadly you don't have much of a choice.

    Keep at it. You may be able to turn things around on that bastard.