Fate of Norns

Murderous Viking death. Sometimes I intend to hurt feelings, other times my writings are thoughtless and incoherent, and sometimes they are both. Now they will just be the former. Just like the Iron Maiden fan said with the long whispy hair and an even whispier mustache, "That's an awesome shirt man." I had to eliminate myself from the situation. This is a common occurence... the compliments on that shirt I mean. Lots of people will be out and about sleighing around tonight, but I'll be right here in the dark with only the quiet whisper of some old electronic equipment and the man in my window as company. Sometimes it's a larger health benefit. I have this game, a "board" game if you will. It's called Mastermind and it's all about breaking codes and shit. It's from the Cold War Era 80's when that shit was popular (War Games). I can probably beat you. Lots of people are probably out there tonight trying to set up equations to win at Yahtzee. I once got six "yahtzees!" in a row without any equations. I have some video footage that you might be interested in. It has some tips on the ghost movement in the Pac-Man game that you know of. I made the footage myself. I also have footage of the beard I used to have. Me: I'm gonna be down here in the dark dampness waiting for the break down to be brought to me, right up in front of my eyes so I can witness it for myself. In the meantime I have a battery-powered tape deck that's qued up to play "Billy Jean" and other Thriller songs. I might bring it to somebody else's world and see what they think. Over at the Mormon church they have a large, decaying pile of trash on their lawn so I noticed. I'm going to leave a note on their door to let them know. I will also tell them that that's no way to recruit people into a cult (I've had my share of problems with this issue in my own religion). Brainwashed: a good song, and also a good way to get people on your side. Three punks threatened me in the chip isle at Walgreen's the other day. A looked at them with a creepy eye, gave them fifty cents and shoved my nightmare in their ears: that I had a cancer. They'll leave me be I figure. Next time delinquents mess with me I'm just gonna ignore them to the best of my ability. A tire was tossed into your backyard (with some other refuse) by some older man with a sweatshirt. He didn't have anywhere else to put all that shit, so there it is for you. Just leave it there. Personally, if I read that last sentence I don't care too much, as my back yard already has some old shingles, a board or two, a small kitchen type plate, a different tire, and moving vehicles. Don't be alarmed. Tomorrow the new business venture will be undertaken legitamately. I will be accepting small amounts of cash for old posters that you want to get rid of. Really, it's a good deal. My riches won't be your debt and it beats giving out pay-day loans like you've chosen to do. For now I'm going to stick around my basement and try to figure out what I wrote on all these crinkled up papers and napkins, followed by the balancing nickel optical illusion, followed by making a twine maze, and finally ending with paranoid scan of the peep-hole on my door for 45 minutes (to put me to sleep).