Bill's Story: Chapter 3

When I went to get the paper this morning I saw my neighbor Ted. Typical right? Except he was squatting and hunched over something by my garbage cans. When I yelled "Hello Ted", as is my custom, he glared at me and made a hissing noise. I think he's probably a zombie. He was either eating a rotten bag of potatoes or a small child. I don't know how any of that got in my garbage. I take solace in the fact that at least he's not a raccoon. My dog Trevor got bitten by a couple raccoons last week. Doctors told me he has rabies. I know better. Trevor is now a raccoon zombie. I'm pretty sure both he and my neighbor are plotting to eat me. And then steal my flat screen TV.

Mystery of the missing forks

After coming home from church, I was happy with the prospect of eating. I was going to reheat the pasta I brought home last night from a local Italian restaurant. And, I successfully reheated it, and even offered some to my brother. However, when we sat down to eat it, we realized something horrifically disturbing had occurred. We had only one fork. 

I checked the sink for dirty dishes. There were only 2, and no fork. I checked the drying rack. There were only spoons and knives. I checked the silverware drawer. Again, only spoons and knives. I checked the random kitchen utensil drawer. No forks. We had no forks. 

No hope. 

So, I ate my meal with a spoon (begrudgingly might I add). Oh, and to make things worse, the fork we were left with was a midget-sized one. Yeah, a shrimp fork. My brother used it, with tears pouring down his face.

I honestly do not know what happened to our forks, but I should have seen this coming. About a month ago we lost all but one of our big forks, and just today we lost all but one of the shrimp forks. But, I do have some theories as to how this has happened:

1. First and foremost I will blame the trash collectors, who have not only refused to take our trash, but now have absconded with our forks (Probably so they can do some weird trashman mystic rituals).

2. We have a clever criminal who has a moderately refined taste for IKEA silverware, and particularly forks. He could be Swedish, given that IKEA is a Swedish company, or he could be Chinese, because all of IKEA's stuff is made there.

3. Our forks left us. They just could not tolerate our cooking any longer. They probably ran off to Italy so their could skewer sausages for the rest of their lives.

4. Ashton Kutcher has devised his most carefully orchestrated PUNK'd episode ever. The filming is over the course of several months. He is starting to mess with us by stealing our forks, then he'll move on to where it hurts: our house plants and pillow cases. Bastard.

5. There are gnomes that live in our house, and they are plotting to take over by creating super-powered fork thrower that they will connect to the back of their pet fox. Their leader David will ride out gloriously in the midst of a charming Christmas dinner party and all hell will break loose.

PS - If you have any ideas as to the whereabouts of our forks please contact us immediately. This is a picture of Fred the fork, last seen with this pasta dish:

Defiant Garbage Collectors

Every wednesday morning, garbage collectors come by my house. I assume they come to collect garbage. Seems only logical. 

Well, last week they came by our street and picked up all the garbage from every house...except our house. Why? Well, I figured that it was some technicality. Perhaps we had too many trash cans or something. Or, maybe we didn't roll them out far enough into the street for their passage to be obstructed enough not to ignore. Or, maybe the fact that we filled each can with 300 pounds of lead, and a family of rats. But no, I think what happened was much more malicious.

They are haters. They didn't like our trash. And they don't like us. They were making a statement. Well, we're going to get them back. First, we called up their supervisors. Yeah, we're tattlers. And, when they come back, we'll have a post-halloween surprise waiting for them. A few dead bodies!!! That'll learn 'em (you love my grammatical correctness).