Art by MeddygonThere is a fine line \ Between genius and madness. \ It is called timing.

Candice fails to realize that we are not friends with her, we merely live with her.

Today, she decided to bitch to Jessica about me.

“I bet she just told Jake flat out that the bottles were mine, she probably didn’t even try to cover for me!” She says.

Why the fuck would I risk anything for that bitch? She seems to think that she’s done nothing wrong.

One of her excuses that she thought of telling Jake to get her off the hook for having 10 partially empty Corona bottles sitting on the counter was that she had a “bottle cap collection.”

…

One more thing.

Candace walked in while Jessie and I were reading my LJ, and Jessie asked, “Is there anything in there about me?” before we noticed she was there. I said, “Nothing bad.” Then Can chimed in, “What about me?”

ARG. “I’ve got stuff about everyone in there.”

“Can I read?” She asks.

“No, it’s my diary. I’m only showing Jessie the funny stuff.”

“Yeah, she won’t even let me read most of it,” Jessie pipes in. Thank you, Jess.

Can tries to read over my shoulder, but I keep the screen pinned to the Ninja Missions.

After a while, she gives up, sprays on a bunch of awful smelling perfume, and walks off.

Three people. One male, two females. RPG! Rapidly forgetting …

I find myself walking with two others through a market. The man seems nothing more than a fighter, and the woman appears to be an archer using crossbows. Well, poo, she’s out of bolts. “Don’t worry,” I say, “I’ll get you some.” The bolts are large wooden ones, about a foot long and an inch diameter.

We leave the marketplace, as I instruct. While walking, I find two bags of bolts on the backs of bikes. Great, I snag them and give them to the girl, and return to the market to get more.

Well look at that, a bike SHOP. I make my way in, ready to get some more. Walking out with a new crossbow and some bolts, I hear a whistle blowing.

Poo, I’m caught.

I start running, and more people start chasing. Some old woman tries to stop me, and, judging by the feeling I got when I saw her, she was an important character in the story.

She attacked me, and I stabbed at her with a loose bolt, and thwocked her on the head with the crossbow.

“What does a thief need with that,” she said after she saw what I stole, “You probably haven’t even got the intelligence to use it.”

“We’ll see,” I said, and pulled the sleek black weapon from the green cloth bag it had been packaged in.

I folded down the long black barrel, and stuck a bolt in. Snapping it back into place, I pulled back the hammer. There was one more thing on the side that I had to press. The woman was expecting me to not know of it, and she dropped her jaw in shock when I reached for it.

Fire one! Into her shoulder.

She screamed, and whined, and went on some villain rant that no one actually reads in a game, and I didn’t pay attention to in the dream. I walked up to her and yanked the bolt out of her, put it back into the bow/gun, and fired again, then ran off.

Dream out.