April 16, 2013

Time is slipping away, creating a lapse in entries. However, if you're reading this, obviously the meatheads stuck a straw in my veins and I've gone from wolf with a giant Johnson to a dead head with an even deader dick. I hope I was rock hard when I got bit. If I gotta be a leg dragger, I wanna be one with a giant stiffie.

Cabins are nearly complete. The two little douches came crawling back and they've made decent slave labor. Embry promised to introduce them to some hot chicks. That motivated their skinny asses. They don't realize those hot chicks are the literally the chicks we've got hatching in the basement under a red light. Next order of business is to build a coop.

NOTE TO SELF: INVEST IN DRUM OF CANOLA OIL FOR PRESERVING EGGS AND CREATING AN OIL SLICK AROUND THE PERIMETER

So, it's time to get serious about gear. Like Woody Allen said, NUT UP OR SHUT UP. That guy was one bad ass motherfucker in Zombieland. The skinny prick was pretty smart too. Douchey geek figured out how to get his copulation on.

So anyway, I've been ordering gear. This doomsday planning is expensive though. I've had to pilfer milk jugs out of recycle bins. Each person needs a gallon of water a day. Gonna have to invest in some oil barrels and lava soap. That shit'll get anything out.

Yeah, gear is expensive. Luckily I was able to score some old football helmets from the high school. I'm currently exploring ways to declare myself a non-profit so I can get more free shit. Swiped a crapload of undies from mom's drawer for ebay, then figured out the cotton crotches makes for decent filters in homemade gas masks. I'll get myself the real deal and pass those off to the rest of the pack.

NOTE TO SELF: SEE IF GAS MASKS COME HALLOWEEN STYLE WITH DEVIL HORNS. BAD ASS!

Billy's got an old lathe in his garage. Embry and I have been busy turning out baseball bats or as I like to call them, skull thumpers. It was rough going at first. Damn machine sucked off the recruiting shirt I was wearing and dude cried like a bitch when it took off part of his finger. We're fuckin' monster wolves. It'll grow back! Puss. Since then, we've been working naked with football cups duct taped over our junk. Not taking any chances on that shit getting mangled. Bad enough I've been neglecting Quil Junior lately. I've been too damn tired from prepping to spank the monkey every night. Which reminds me. I need to check the porn boards. Some of those bitches get worried when I don't come around.

I kiped the box of tampons mom keeps stashed under the sink to go into the bug out bags. They make damn good firestarters.

Started stashing weapons around the perimeter just in case I get caught with my pants down and a scourge descends. There's shit buried beneath the shit in the latrines, a couple a kits up in the trees and some AK-47s beneath the floorboards. I also rigged up a board to smash into someones head if they bust through the door. Thought about driving six inch nails in there, but what if it's my chick and she's hot for my dick in the middle of the night? Talk about cockblock.

Speaking of... the medical facility is getting close to finished. The birthing table still needs sanding. Don't know why. Not like all the imprints haven't had splinters in their asses from making it in the woods. Whatever. It's not much, but it'll do. Need to swipe a couple more breast pumps though. We gotta get busy with food supplies.

NOTE TO SELF: RESEARCH CHEESE MAKING TECHNIQUES

I've been rubbing up against tree bark like a deer trying to shed it's horns. Emily can weave and she promised if I save up enough lice free fur, she'll make up a few carpets for me. Killer's fur is getting pretty thick, so I figure I can shear her like a sheep. Oh, I'll leave a couple of puffballs on her tail and around her ankles. Maybe one on top of the head. Tie a pom pom around it or some shit. Figured out if i tease her with steak she bears her teeth pretty good. Snarls like a rabid bitch in heat. I'm exploring the idea of wrapping ritalin in bacon and feeding it to her. Jared's little sister is hopped up on that shit. Should be pretty easy to score. Or I could go scare the piss out of some dealer up in Port A. That might be just what I need to work out some of this nervous energy. I'm starting to feel sketchy and there's no fucking way I'm cutting out the coffee. I almost wish the damn cannibal corpses would descend already and get it over with.

The news reports have been bitching about all the feral swine in the southeast corner of the state. I'm gonna head down that way and catch a couple. Figured if we pen some in we'll have free food and free entertainment. If I'm lucky, I can find a litter still suckling the tit.

NOTE TO SELF: FIGURE OUT HOW TO MILK A PIG. EXTRA CHEESE.

I'll try to update this journal more frequently. All my time has been sucked up by ordering twinkies from the hoarders on ebay and looking for a decent bamboo source.

oooOOOooo

Quil and Embry sat huddled in the darkest corner of the house, both with laptops spread across their legs. They looked bug-eyed and if Jake didn't know better, he'd swear they were hopped up on Meth. Killer was running aimlessly around the room, licking out the insides of empty Hormel Chili cans. A shrivelled, sticky bean decorated her polka dot bow and the fur around her muzzle was orange and dirty.

"It fuckin' reeks in here, asshat!" Jacob shouted. "Quit feeding that dog chili."

At that point, as if knowing her food source was about to get cut off, Killer attacked his leg with a vengeance, humping the shit out of his calf.

"What the hell? Get this thing off me, Ateara!"

Quil barely lifted his eyes, reached for a piece of rolled up bacon and tossed it to the dog. In a hot second, she gave up the doggie quickie and dove for the treat.

"Dipshit, you realize that dog isn't a chick, right? Females don't hump legs."

Shrugging, still completely glued to the screen in front of him, Quil smiled evilly. "She's been watching porn with me and gettin' gender confused. S'all good though. It'll freak out the encroachers."

Jacob took a half a step toward the dog, but changed his mind when she slapped one frizzed out paw down on the bacon and started snarling like a rabid bitch.

It was like a bad scene from hoarders in the room. Stockpiles of canned goods and twenty baseball bats sitting in the corner with the words 'Skull Thumprz' wood burned into them. Worse, piles and piles of more Hormel, what appeared to be creepy ass knives and saws next to Bella's Pregnancy book and a pile of granny panties the size of Mount Everest.

Narrowing his eyes at the two goons, he then focused in on the ringleader. "You wanna tell me why you're late for patrol again?"

"Can't patrol, Jake. This is important."

"Listen shithead. I had to skip an ultrasound and piss off my pregnant wife to come over here and find your lazy ass. I don't give a flying fuck what you do on your own time, but get your ass out in the woods for patrols. I'm not coming over here again."

Embry scrambled to his feet, a little red-faced, but Quil refused to move. "Five minutes. I'm on auction countdown and I can't lose out on this."

"For fucking what?"

Quil let out a feral growl when Jacob snatched the laptop away from him.

The image glared back at him from the screen. Twinkies. A fucking $300 case of Hostess crap. "Oh hell no! You have to be kidding me!" he shouted, slamming the lid of the computer closed. "Get your ass outside," he ordered, "and I swear to fuck, if you even so much as think about this shit while we're phased, I'll kick your motherfucking ass into kingdom come."

Striding over to the door, Jacob tripped and fell, slipping across a newspaper covered with Killer's Hormel doggie doo only to smash into a pile of boxes that spilled enough ammo for to take over a small country. Completely livid, he turned around, flung the shit at Quil, was about to question bullets when he then noticed what it was that he'd stumbled over. "What the hell? Are you prepping for a goddamn revolution? And fucking vibrator, Quil?" Jacob didn't even want to think about where the assclown was sticking that. His porn obsession was out of control.

"Hey, that's my massager!" shouted Quil. "You shouldn't knock it man! That's not a damn vibe. It doesn't even resemble a cock."

Evidently, Quil had skipped over the sexual revolution of the 1970's, blissfully unaware that the innocuous beige piece of plastic that made his mom's girlie parts scream on more than one occasion.

Revolted, Jacob left the douchebag without another word. To say he was disturbed after what he saw was an understatement. When he'd gone over to the Atearas to see why Quil was late for patrol again, he certainly didn't expect to see what he did or land in a pile of dog shit.

Already having missed the ultrasound appointment for his kid, Jacob decided to make a pit stop at Leah's house. It was time to up the ante.

After that, Embry never missed a patrol and Quil was rarely late. Getting your nutsack pierced with three of Leah Clearwater's sharp claws was enough motivation to keep your ass in gear.