So, as I wandered through Glint's dark, rank, horrid streets today, I came across a small revelation: more and more I'm growing away from my usual group and am left to wander about the city streets on my own. Of course, I welcome the solitude and silence- Cara's grating voice as she gripes about her problems and Nim's mechanical sounding laughter that always seems to be on que has quite lost it's flavor- but it still makes me wonder what happened to the days when we stuck together. I suppose new jobs sees to it that the old house is divided up to aid the country's inhabitants, but there aren't many times that the two morons and the genius get together anymore, and, when we do, the conversation is nearly always stilted. From thinly veiled threats of killing mutts to dramatic "welcome home" shoot outs... I can't help but wonder what has become of my second family.
Perhaps I'll never figure out why my two morons have seemingly grown apart, bit by bit... Perhaps not. I don't care, either way. Now, another interesting bit of news is that someone actually managed to flat out ask me my intentions in Glint today.
Some small time whore with naught but clear latex to cover her body managed to scrounge together enough braincells to ask a cognitive question. My answer to her? Lies and make believe stories of Frankenstein midgets killing bunnies. This, my dear journal, is evidence enough that someone knocked a bottle of bleach into the gene pool. If anyone were to know my real intentions, or figure them out, they would be in for a pleasant surprise. But, akin to cheap magicians who extort money out of retards, I never tell my secrets. For those whom are curious... You'll have to try to use those brains of yours. Such a hardship, isn't it?
Any of the other activities I witnessed today had very little meaning to me. Just Nim silently going about doing Defiant's will, Defiant raping a girl, and Sluttling masturbating to said rape in public... Rather an invigorating day, no? You know, I'm beginning to wonder about those three... Perhaps my dear Nimwit has fallen prey to the ogre's wiles... She always was a sucker for anyone with a strong hand to slap her around; she practically craves pain, you know. See her in my clinic every week to get fixed up so she can be beaten again. Luckily elves regenerate, eh?
And with that, I close the book for tonight. I'm tired from researching the inner workings of Glint all day and will continue to do so tomorrow. Perhaps I'll even have something interesting to report, but don't get your hopes up. Until then, dear journal.