Daftwager Twitter – Day 4

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Day 4:

07:00; Finally came down on the rooftop of local rascal, Pirate Pete Pequod. Couldn’t miss it; only house with a rooftop mocked up to appear like the deck of a seventeenth century galleon, including decking, rigging, sails, captain’s wheel and full set of six cannon and ball.

It is creepily like the set of the ‘Crimson Assurance’.

08:00; You can tell Pete is rich, yes? Oh, its not just the frivolous expense. It is the fact that Pequod applied for and received planning permission build the house around a ship land becalmed by a storm. And he still got a seaworthy rating from the Navy. And he gets to fire the cannons at noon and six pm, which cause sundry damage, death and disturbation of my . . . meditations.

AND I still can’t enough consent for my idyllic skylight/industrial photon shunt.

09:00; Originally intended just to ditch the balloon here, as the only rooftop in town where convenient sails can conceal a parade balloon, and shin down the drainpipes. However, using the netting, rigging, lanterns, furnace and one of the lifeboats, I have converted the parade balloon into a fully-functional hot-air dirigible with extremely rudimentary propulsion and steering, and a gondola affixed underneath. I assure you – this theft is not out of spite for his planning permission pride. The man is a multi-millionaire from his pirate-themed ‘Plunderwear’ TM lingerie line alone – he can afford some more ropes.

Taking his antique Admiral Nelson hat, that was spite.

10:00; Managed to take off just before I was discovered. I had to ditch the plan to steal a cannon – couldn’t sufficient secure it to the gondola, and the gondola to the balloon. Without that, a loose cannon would rock the boat. In retrospect, I was lucky to get as much as I did done. I was just over the adjacent building by the time Pete, distressed and dishabille, came out of the Captain’s cabin.

Good news– he didn’t appear to be a zombie – that would have added a serious reprimand to capture.

Annoying news– either the underwear models (wearing Plunderwear TM) that came out of the Captain’s cabin after him were giving a private, early morning showing, or Pete Pequod wouldn’t be overly preoccupied with the minor matter of my robbery.

Not that his distraction is bad news, but his being distracted due to, say, falling off the roof into a horde of zombies, would have been preferable.

11:00; Found prized golden fishing rod and collapsible telescope in the gondola. Now Pequod Pete and I are even.

12:00; Clouds came in over night – I’m staying in the nimbus layer for now.

13:00; Street level activities at a minimum, or so my telescope tells me. Those few on the move have a definite Romero-shuffle going on.

14:00; I see the occassional lich-soldier rounding up new recruits. Typical – zombies acting like zombees; swarming together, never eating each other – unless desperate.

15:00; Can’t descend sufficiently to confirm, but it seems like the zombies are being herded to ‘Les Pantalon Rouge’.

16:00; Ipod – Jonathan Coulton; “Re: Your Brains”.

If Hollywood has taught us anything, it’s that being trapped in a mall surrounded by a million zombies would be really troublesome. But how much more annoying would it be if the head zombie used to be your co-worker, and he was kind of a prick even before he got infected? And now he’s right outside and he just keeps talking and talking – still the same jackass, only now he wants to eat your brains?

“Heya Tom, it’s Bob from the office down the hall
Good to see you buddy, how’ve you been?
Thing have been OK for me except that I’m a zombie now
I really wish you’d let us in
I think I speak for all of us when I say I understand
Why you folks might hesitate to submit to our demand
But here’s an FYI: you’re all gonna die screaming
I’ve never had a song so applicable to me.

All we want to do is eat your brains
We’re not unreasonable, I mean, no one’s gonna eat your eyes
All we want to do is eat your brains
We’re at an impasse here, maybe we should compromise:
If you open up the doors
We’ll all come inside and eat your brains

I don’t want to nitpick, Tom, but is this really your plan?
To spend your whole life locked inside a mall?
Maybe that’s OK for now but someday you’ll be out of food and guns
And then you’ll have to make the call
I’m not surprised to see you haven’t thought it through enough
You never had the head for all that bigger picture stuff
But Tom, that’s what I do, and I plan on eating you slowly

All we want to do is eat your brains
We’re not unreasonable, I mean, no one’s gonna eat your eyes
All we want to do is eat your brains
We’re at an impasse here, maybe we should compromise:
If you open up the doors
We’ll all come inside and eat your brains

I’d like to help you Tom, in any way I can
I sure appreciate the way you’re working with me
I’m not a monster Tom, well, technically I am
I guess I am

I’ve got another meeting Tom, maybe we could wrap it up
I know we’ll get to common ground somehow
Meanwhile I’ll report back to my colleagues who were chewing on the doors
I guess we’ll table this for now
I’m glad to see you take constructive criticism well
Thank you for your time I know we’re all busy as hell
And we’ll put this thing to bed
When I bash your head open

All we want to do is eat your brains
We’re not unreasonable, I mean, no one’s gonna eat your eyes
All we want to do is eat your brains
We’re at an impasse here, maybe we should compromise:
If you open up the doors
We’ll all come inside and eat your brains”

 

17:00; Ah, reality now depresses me. Dreamtime.

I-pod: Jonathan Coulton; “Millionaire Girlfriend”“I will wait a lifetime if it takes that long
I know she’s out there for I have heard her song
In dreams she sings to me
Her angel’s voice a symphony
Is she in a garden or a meadow fair
Does the dappled sunlight shine ribbons in her hair?
Does she sit patiently smiling as she waits for me?

She’s my millionaire girlfriend and she’s my life
Once I finally find her I’ll get permission from the wife
We will all live in our castle high
My beloved and my millionaire girlfriend and I

She’s a stolen secret from a pirate’s chest
I will wear an ascot and a suit that has a vest
And I will put it on as I watch gardener mow the lawn
She’s a fairy princess from a song of old
I will have a toothbrush that is made of solid gold
And I will watch TV as my manservant flosses me

She’s my millionaire girlfriend and she’s my life
Once I finally find her I’ll get permission from the wife
We will all live in our castle high
My beloved and my millionaire girlfriend and I

It does not matter to me if she’s pretty
All that counts is what she’s got at Citibank

Chase Manhattan or even Washington Mutual

When my search is ended I will cherish her
She will sign some papers, give me power of attorney
And what’s hers will be mine in perpetuity

She’s my millionaire girlfriend and she’s my life
Once I finally find her I’ll get permission from the wife
We will all live in our castle high
My beloved and my millionaire girlfriend and I
My beloved and my millionaire girlfriend and I
My beloved and my millionaire girlfriend and I ”

18:00; Experiment 1: Roof level descent in the dark. Nailed an undead with a penny from eight stories up. Headwound. The others didn’t help it, but they didn’t finish it off either.

19:00; I see a lot of window curtains being twitched. There are far more alive than undead.

20:00; Successfully fished a roasted chicken out of a third floor window. Requisite risk; I can survive on the lifeboat’s rations for a while, but none of them are meat.

21:00; Experiment 2: Attempting to lead a zombie away from the others with chickenbait attracts notice, but doesn’t work. Senses of smell & motion intact.

22:00; *gasp* LITTLE. *gasp* FELLOW. *gasp* DOESN’T. *gasp* WANT. *gasp* TO. *gasp* LET. *gasp* GO. *gasp*

23:00; Fair enough then. Where is that rigging pulley and galley netting?

00:00; Heh. And I thought the ability to operate on a dead corpse would never come in useful. Not quite like evil med school. Just a very blunt saw instead of a scalpel and a hammer instead of anesthesia. Hope my impatient patient will be patient with me . . .

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