Saturday, 11 February 2012


Good news and terrible news.

Just got off the phone with Oz.
Good news: He managed to strangle the bitch in protective custody.
Terrible news: He is going to beat the living shit out of me.
As I said before, Oz doesn't like having to clean up other people's business. And I was right about that: he was royally pissed. But that's not what really set him off. What set him off is that I mentioned he has access to the police office. The call went something like this:

"How long have you been working with us, Cauldhame?"
"A bit over 9 months, Oz."
"How much longer do you want to work with us, Cauldhame?"
"... what?"
"Not very long, it seems. We like to run a tight ship, Cauldhame. When one of us screws up, it means the rest of us get screwed."
"I know. She maced me."
"I know she maced you, Cauldhame. That was obvious from what you wrote on your blog. A lot of things were obvious on your blog. Including what places we may or may not have access to."
"... Shit."
"Shit is right, Cauldhame. You are in a world of it."
And then he hung utgvfu  hyhybvghvkujvv k,jbh gjbh vkmgbh v b,jh bb, h  hgb

I've always wondered what a forehead hitting a keyboard would look like on screen. Cauldhame is  unconscious. Which doesn't mean I'll stop. It just means he'll feel worse when he wakes up. And when he does wake up, I'd like you all to make very clear how little you think of him. Little pissant.