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The room was white with harsh fluorescent lighting. My parents were there. So were my White Lie Party My Face Is Not A Seat Shirt . When I woke up enough to hear them clearly they said I had been gone for almost a week. Police and dogs tracked me and volunteer teams swept day and night. It was the saved picture on my computer that gave them the first bread crumb. All those dead birds were killed some time ago and frozen until laid about the yard. Blood coming from the faucets was just someone tapping into the waterline to our unit in the sewer. The power surge came from some clever timing of universal remotes and the fuse box.
I once dealt with a guy like that. He was the new one on the group and went out saying shit about White Lie Party My Face Is Not A Seat Shirt , who were understandably uncomfortable, but nobody said anything. He then told a friend of mine something really hurtful about arts (she’s a concept artist) and when she got mad, he said “sorry, i’m just brutally honest”, to where she said something along “That’s codeword for ‘I’m so boring I have to attack people or they will see how bland I am'” He went pale, and actually lashed out about how rude she was, the fucking nerve. Never saw him again after that.