Saturday, February 3, 2007

Tales Of Wallachian Fables & My Reality - Volume 6

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I just sit here in my Minivan as I do every morning, smoking a butt before I have to go upstairs and start cleaning those stupid offices, and the last few weeks I have been watching Missy walking around behind the long haired guy from the factory downstairs as he takes out the garbage. I’m fascinated at how she’s fascinated with him, and Lizzie has stated a few times that she is probably trying to make me jealous. The poor guy doesn’t even know he has an admirer because to the best of my knowledge, I think I am still the only person around here that can see her. It’s been another one of those fascinating wrinkles to my friend Missy that baffles me and the rest of the KOOKS {affectionate name I give to all of my supernatural chasing friends online aka … Keepers Of Odd Knowledge Society} that I talk about this with, because she has gone from being a spirit {not seen} to a corporeal being {visible but not always well} to now being able to cross her given boundaries.

I’m pretty sure that she is angry now a days because I can’t go into the conference room where she used to leave messages on the white board, but she can blame herself for that for creating mayhem and making it so that the door is always locked. Originally the “Powers That Be” in the Pink Mafia assumed that I was pranking them, but after it became apparent that I wasn’t they have determined that the place is being broken into. I do miss the messages that were always in purple marker despite the fact that there are no “purple markers” in the place {and yes that tended to freak out the HR director too} that I would get from time to time, along with the pictures of Looney Toon characters that she drew. All in the day of the life of a very very strange man I suppose, but I don’t talk about it much unless it is in a blog {plausible deniability} or amongst people who really know me. When I was younger I thought it was perfectly normal to sense things that others don’t and by the time I was old enough for it to look “crazy” I was anyway.

Yesterday was a bit different though as the door to the conference room was wide open, with a huge pile of mess inside of it {no it wasn’t Missy, it was the slobs that were throwing some sort of company orgy or something} and I imagine that they finally wanted me to clean it. Walking inside revealed nothing super natural, so for all I know Missy was still downstairs hanging out with her boyfriend there, so I started cleaning up all of the food in the carpet. You can’t even imagine what it is like cleaning up after slobs and brats unless you do it. Some people I swear to God have no class, and I wonder what they are thinking other than “we have someone to clean up after us” as I was scraping something off of one of the chairs. The best thing to do in scenarios like this is to NOT try to figure out what it was. I have days when I go into the break rooms about an hour after cleaning them and the place looks like people threw up on things. Sure there is someone that is going to clean it up, but not for another 23 hours of other people having to look at it. Most important to remember though is that it doesn’t matter what end of the ladder the people are standing on there are slobs at every section.

After getting off my hands and knees I noticed that chairs had been pulled away from the table, which told me immediately that my “friend” had shown up to help but wasn’t exactly opaque. The fluorescent lighting affects whether you can see a ghost or not and that has always fascinated me, and I have heard a million theories on that but won’t bore you with those details, as I always have my own details to bore people with. The only times I have ever seen her upstairs here happen to be before I get to an area where the automatic lights turn on {and yes it does freak the shit out of you} and I have seen her move chairs in the past, but she likes to be sneaky. Her age has a lot to do with that I imagine, as she technically would be the same age as me if ghosts aged normally, but has the maturity of a teenager {despite dying in infancy … again I don’t know … don’t ask} and she does like to be helpful when she wants to, and a pain in the ass when she doesn’t. For those of you reading one of these for the first time, they have actually taken all of the sharp objects away from me so you are safe.

I’m sorry to report, that there wasn’t anything eventful yesterday. She simply was around, as she has been for months. She doesn’t communicate that much anymore, and I have had to do my research on her walking around behind the guy downstairs or from what I hear from office personnel when they are trying to get information from the company janitor without letting on that they are crazy. Little do they know that I understand a lot more than they think, but Missy obviously dances to the beat of a different drummer, and makes my life a bit more interesting, despite the total “stand still” on figuring out where she is, and why she doesn’t fit any of the norms. If there is a mystery involving her existence then she will get that point across to me, or she won’t, and that is a lot of personal growth on my own part because I really am a nosey bastard. Perhaps my next investment will be to buy some of those mini white boards and leave them in the bathrooms {like they do in bars} and try to convince the office people that it is a good idea, just to see if she’ll talk to me again. At least she’ll know that I care and I tried ;8o)

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Nothing that was printed here was intended to offend anyone, and if it did, fuck ya, you begged for it. If you believe that there are some measures that can be taken to change me, then please feel free to pray for me, and while you are at it yourself, because you read this far, and if you hated every minute of it, then you are an idiot, not me, or the other people who like what I have to say! .. Jeremy

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Jeremy Fink and The Crow's Nest