Abandonment: Part Two

During a particularly lucid moment, the Boy and I were able to determine that this indeed day seven without Doc’s supervision: It was a fairly uneventful day without the torment of plague and schemes of the Man Child. We haven’t seen him since this morning when he let me in after causing me to lock myself out. We have determined he may have been consumed by the timber wolf posing as a house pet. It is also known to our tribe that pigs will devour a man as well. This could explain why Doc’s beloved pigdog is so jumpy. She must be going feral with the rest of us. Our meal was a bland concoction of shell shaped wheat powder covered in an orange paste one might mistake for a product of a bovine’s udder. We run dangerously low on this provision as well. It may be that we are reduced to eating grass before Doc returns. The Boy entertained himself today by coaxing strange noises from the pigdog with a bundle of leaves covered in strange runes not unlike those you see before you. They must be powerful runes indeed to frighten Doc’s minion in such a way.

Again without wife supervision: Day eight, month eight, year eight, what’s the difference? We are doomed. It seems that the pigdog did not devour the Man Child after all. He’d been gone searching vehicle graveyards for Jeep parts. Yes, parts for his vehicle that he assaulted Doc’s chariot with. I am surprised he was permitted to live. Despite the howling and chest beating protests of the Boy and I, the Man Child destroyed one of our last food reserves: The fish drying racks we had constructed under the back seat of the Jeep. Granted, the heads are the least tasty morsels of fish, but it WAS food. On a positive note, it rained today. The Boy and I rendered fat and wood ash and attempted to bathe for the first time since we were chased away from the pool. We were forced back into the cave after a narrow escape wearing nothing but a less than optimal film of soap. Vile men in blue.


*Timber Wolf and Pigdog

Day nine and still no wife to keep the natives in check. The Boy and the Man Child shriek and hoot with glee until shortly before sunrise and sing with the Timber Wolf and Pigdog. I am convinced that the Boy has forged some ungodly alliance with the Man Child. My days may be numbered. The four of them share meals from the same bowl and exclude me. I was never a fan anyway of the rubber chicken bits so loved by the Timber Wolf. Some withered old alchemist also plots against me by telling Doc’s Queen Mother to take my wife into the mountain wilderness. It seems the Evil Druidess my wife calls Sister also plots to have Doc leave us to perish. Perhaps the pagan practices of the ungodly duo downstairs are linked to the Evil Druidess and her fell minions.

Day ten was almost my undoing. Fearing for my safety and my empty stomach, I felt it best to be somewhere other than the cave where the Boy and the Man Child plot against me. So I ventured to Pineview lake. A gator infested, weed choked, fish free place on the edge of civilization. Recent fires had cleared much of the underbrush and still smoldered. A thick cloud of pine scented smoke hung low over the water. Sadly, the smoke cover was not enough to block the sun. My skin now glows bright red. I have no food to show for my efforts, but I learned a new skill: The uphill dismounted stump jumping through hot coals in a modified zig zag panic induced sprint is of great use when gators show interest in the bait fish still in your hand.

Day eleven without adult supervision: The Boy seems to have gangrene. I may have to amputate his trigger finger. He’s no good to me if he can’t shoot. Perhaps he would make good bait. If he could distract one of those gators long enough for me to kill one, I’d have enough food for a week! Hopefully it has nothing to do with the fish we ate. He was impaled several times by the spines of angry fish not wanting to part with their scales.
*Update: The Boy used half a bottle of rum to make a sauce for some sauce for our seafood. Using him for gator bait may serve to prevent further instances of such blatant alcohol abuse.

Day twelve without wife supervision was challenging. It is the first time we’ve had to prepare for a birthday without her. I think the Boy and I did well. We made a cake for the Man Child. We also employed our extensive crafting abilities to make the Man Child a birthday card to go with the cake. After all, making a gift requires a great deal of time, effort, and thoughtfulness. He is sure to appreciate this more than any store bought trinket. Perhaps this will bring peace between our factions.


Day thirteen. We are saved!! Our queen has graced us with her presence! Though I am confused at her reaction to the two dozen mouse heads we left in tribute. It always seems to please her when the cat does it…

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