Abdominal Agony

Man, if this is the death of me.. well, I ain't disappointed. A little pissed it had to be this simple, but you know, whatever. If this is what God wants, well, I  guess me and him can duke it out in a few hours. Heavin' in the heaven -- the new rumble in the jungle? Who knows?

Anyways, my belly's on fire and if I'm writing my final journal entry tonight I'm going down with a bit of punch. A few Jack Bauer blinks have gotten me this far, I can keep going.

And you know, this almost definitely ain't as extreme as I'm making it. Why kid with you guys? Why kid with this journal? A piece of KFC and a tuna wrap that's God knows how old and how rotten it was ain't gonna kill me. Neither tasted very good, but it's giving me the heartburn of a lifetime. If that's a misdiagnosis I'm not surprised either.. Should a forensics team every study in here I might as well leave some evidence.. this post might not even be posted and they'll find it stuck on my corpse lap. That'll be a funny way to be discovered. Wonder what they'll think was on the computer. A virus?

Well, it's pretty centralized to be heartburn. Right beneath the abs that are second from the top, top for those people who don't have eight. Right in between them as well, with a line from my belly button up to my chin. And it's just a little circle that pulses up through my throat sometimes. I had a headache earlier if that's any help for you forensic physicians. Sometimes I feel like I can't breathe. If I'm up standing and walking around it's much worse than if I'm laying down, but I took advantage of that challenge and got a load of laundry going. And let the dog out. Doggone twice.

If poor ol' Gimli's death of me.. give the damn fool some lethal injection. Or not. Take him for a walk, actually, he'll love that. Will make him forget about that party he's been planning on throwing about my deathbed for years.. since the day we brought him home, perhaps. Death and suffering, right, Wes?

Well, there's a good story for you guys. One that should be memorialized should this be my last posting, or semi-posting, should I fail to actually "post" it. But my brother Wesley and I came up with a theory that might just explain why Gimli keeps on getting in trouble with us. It starts out pretty innocent really.

So one day, Gimli's sitting around at this dog store waiting for God knows what to happen. All he knows is that this place is crazy, it's got tons of food designed specially for dogs and treats by the truckload. And there's a terrible racket coming from the birds section. And there's these awful kids and families who keep on coming up to him and rubbing his head and whatnot. And this well endowed blonde he's with is only just so barely averting the attention with its sights on him.

Eventually, this crazy family comes up with three boys, a mom and a dad, and the biggest son is still griping about some dog at some other place. Its name was Sasha and Gimli knew he could do a better job any day, had he the will or the humor.

Anyways, this family takes him home and he decides to become this good-natured pup. He'll just behave and run like crazy as if he's been abused (to gain their pity and trust) whenever a leg is picked up around him. He'll take a while to get used to this Rupert-Gimli transition in order to show that he's only of mediocre dog intelligence.

After a while, this new character literally becomes him. He can't escape it and soon forgets his evil genius self, but it's lurking underneath. It's just waiting for the spur. He's literally become the Smeagol to his Gollum. He's just gotta get used to the rules. Who to ask to take him out, who feeds him, you know, general house rules.

There were a few he had particular trouble with.. like, you know, pissing on beds and the carpet and taking a shit wheresoever his heart should desire. This pisses his family off and he usually winds up spanked and in his bed, but that ain't so bad. Since when has been forced to take a nap been a punishment? Like when he was three? He acts like it's working so that the family buys into his whole charade, that again, he's starting to forget.

One fateful day, he tries out one of these after noticing the lack of attention when they step out the door to go on their regular walks (because, c'mon, really, what else is there to do outside?) and they usually don't come back for a couple of hours. So he figures he can get away with whatever he wants. Whether that be sleeping, seeing how much hair he can shed, or sleeping on the places he'd usually get kicked off of. Or going through the trashcans.

So he heads downstairs and to the kitchen.. he points his nose at the crack between the counter and the door to the garbage can, pushes it open, reaches inside (quite innocently) and tries out all this wondrous food the humans must have left in there, stored up for just him. He tips it over and digs in to this incredible array of smell and taste sensational delight. He feasts, his belly fulls, his tongue's happy, and his tail just can't stop wagging. His masters are so generous to leave this just sitting around, he thinks. With a cheerful smile and a now entirely forgotten evil alter ego, he devours this feast with a most grateful heart. To his heart's content in fact.. which did not come until the masters returned. He wags his tail some more and remembers that they were the ones to present this generosity. Unfortunately for him, they did not see it this way nor was it generosity that sprung this "gift." He was spanked, thrown in bed, and severely scolded.

And a dastardly gang of squirrels were watching.

Watching and waiting.

Waiting and scheming.

Scheming and planning.

Or is that just the same thing?

Now anyways, time passes, and Gimli has repentantly made amends. He is sincerely sorry for his actions. He is heartbroken that the gift is not for him, accepting, but ever hopeful that these rules will change. His innocent heart is cheerful with the other joys of life, however, and he is among the most benevolent of doggies who just love to snuggle up, wrestle, and play with his owners.. his family.

Things are great. He goes to the dog park at Hazeldale and sniffs trees while contentedly ignoring other canines. They could matter less. "Sure, let them sniff my butt, they'll figure out what it smells like soon enough. Don't expect me to try that out anyway, I enjoy the more sophisticated joys of life," he thought to himself. Yet the squirrels were still watching his every move. Watching and waiting. Waiting and scheming. Scheming and planning. Or is that just the same thing?

Now, that very day, they follow Gimli down the street, across the road, and up the hill to the family's home. They sneak inside, hide, and wait for the family to leave. "Good thing the dog's nose is so poor," the conniving squirrels silently observe. They are just itching to unleash their master plan. The family leaves.

Plan becomes action. The squirrels greet Gimli in a false friendly kind of way, and say that they're just going to check out the garbage can.

"Oh, you silly squirrels shouldn't do that," Gimli gently warns.
"Oh, this?  We do this all the time. The humans don't really mind us," the snide squirrels remark as they pack up their malevolent cheeks with discarded snacks, "it's you that they usually don't give this stuff."
"Usually?" Gimli asks with a flicker of optimistic hope.
"Well, sometimes they leave a treat for your kind. Those are the really good owners. Are your masters good owners?"
"Oh, yes! Most certainly! I love them because they are my masters and I love them and... point!"
"Well, I don't know what you're pointing at.. but I think you're right. And just in time, they're pulling in the driveway now!"
"What did you guys find? A treat?!"
"Yes. Right there in the secret compartment of that yogurt container. You might have to look for it for a while," the squirrels conclude while making their stealthy exit out a nearby window.

Gimli was so happy! His masters had actually rewarded him for his good behavior and left him a treat in the garbage can.. was this the moment of redemption? Things were certainly looking up for this happy beagle. He would find that treat any moment now and taste its yummy goodness.. if only he could just lick through this plastic, the yogurt on his nose was just a little annoying.. and THWACK!

His furry haunches get smacked. He's in trouble.. and for what? The masters angrily spanked him, threw him in his bed, and locked the door. While they scathingly scolded him, he could not possibly figure out why this was happening. Hadn't they left a treat?

Hours pass and he is let out of the cage. With unexplained remorse, he recounts the details of what had come to pass on that momentous day. His sweet innocence just couldn't fathom why he didn't find the treat in the secret yogurt compartment, that part just didn't understand why the squirrels had been wrong, why they had been so happy with their findings and why he had gotten the castigation. It just didn't make sense to that part of him!

But another part knew just what had occurred. He had been tricked by the squirrels. They had set him up, and must pay the ultimate price! This part of Gimli grew in furious ferocity, yet it grew silently within him, waiting for the perfect moment to manifest. Its hatred boiled.. its passion for the squirrels thought up ways as to how he could vanquish them, vindictively cause them to suffer for what they had done. Justice had to be served.

Yet as time passed and no opportunity arose, this part of Gimli gradually became distorted (or at least more than it had been before.) Its hatred lost its focused concentration towards squirrels and grew in its variety. It began to hate all things, and leap out in random thoughts in Gimli's mind whenever squirrels scampered across the television screen or worse yet, out the window.  DEATH AND SUFFERING!

These thoughts raced across Gimli's mind in dark flashes so quick and so sprinting that sometimes Gimli did not process them and let out a spontaneous grumble. His genuine innocence and optimism grew stronger as did his darker side, but the two were a perfect match and occasionally the dark side did manage to take over. Then one day, on a walk through Rood Bridge Park the dark side of Gimli was finally able to manifest.

He spotted the squirrel mastermind behind his downfall.

Gimli sprinted off the leash, moving with such velocity and force as to rip the handle of the leash straight out of his young owner's hands. This squirrel was going to pay! He was going to chase it until he caught it and ripped it to shreds.. but smack! The leash was caught. Gimli snapped around with the sudden capture and was frustrated. With the loss of his momentum and the proximity between him and the squirrel rapidly decreasing, he could only beg (whine) to be let free towards the ensuing justice. The owners could not possibly sympathize with such a savage beast as the squirrel!

Yet as the squirrel got further and further away, Gimli gradually reverted to his sweet and innocent side although sparks of DEATH AND SUFFERING! did occasionally scamper like a squirrel across his mind. The squirrels framed Gimli many more times, and each time did the darkness grow more. With flashes of this darkness Gimli would run away from time to time, take dumps in conspicuous locations, or yell at the top of his vicious lungs at random visitors or pedestrians. He had a prevailing dark side to match his sweet side, a Hyde to his Jekyll.

Even Jekyll never quite did forgive those squirrels.

DEATH AND SUFFERING!





... I feel better now. That's what storytelling does to me. There must be such a thing as therapeutic charlatanism. My belly doesn't hurt unless I think about it.

Good night everybody!