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Friday - 12:20 p.m.

Last night, after I got home from the cardboard box factory where I work part-time, I decided to clean my entire apartment from top to bottom.

I put on pajamas and wore Kleenex boxes on my feet because, with the fury in which I cleaned, it would have made Howard Hughes look like an amateur. Suffice to say, without any paper towels, cleaning my apartment was somewhat difficult. I am now out of toilet paper, napkins, tissues, q-tips, and clean underwear.

After the entire place was totally spotless, I set about cleansing myself. I hadn't realized how long it had been since I had last shaved. My five o'clock shadow had turned into nine o'clock hobo. I stripped off the pajamas and put on my black Sub Pop T-shirt and some jeans. Then I took the pajamas out back and burned them in the alley.

It was about five a.m. and some of the prostitutes, who are constantly visiting my neighbor who has the large barking dogs, came over and warmed themselves by the flames created by my pajama fire. One of them finally asked me why I was wearing Kleenex boxes on my feet. I turned and looked at her. She looked like she was only an oven mitt away from being someone's 1950’s TV sitcom mother. I started to answer her, but for some reason didn’t finish. We just stood there and stared at each other. The light from the pajama’s flames made her face glow like a demon. I imagined this was what it would be like to have Martha Stewart greet me at the gates of Hell.

She asked me if I wanted "some company." I shook my head no, because chlamydia, then turned and walked back inside my apartment, where I took a scalding hot shower until there was no hot water left. It took about 45 minutes for the hot water tank to empty itself. In my haste to shower I had forgotten to take off my clothes and the water destroyed the Kleenex boxes. After my shower I took off my wet clothes, hung them over the shower rod, and set about shaving off my whiskers.

I put an album from The Division of Laura Lee on the stereo and started to shave. I kept having flashbacks to the scene in the movie Pink Floyd: The Wall where Geldof shaves all the hair off his body. Then I had flashes of the scene in the movie The Royal Tenenbaums, where Luke Wilson shaves and cuts off his hair and then slits his wrists. I don’t know why I kept thinking about those scenes. There was no way I was going to be able to cut my wrists with the cheap-ass disposable razor I was using.

I stared at my reflection for what seemed like an eternity. Then, the album I was listening to got to a song called Trapped In and I heard the line, "And I know, someday, things will get better, I've been trapped in this black hole for too long." I chuckled to myself. I remember the first time I heard that song and I thought he had said, "I’ve been trapped in this butthole for too long."

That's when it happened.

The stereo stopped suddenly and there was a huge crash outside in my living room. It sounded like a herd of Clydesdales practicing to be on Soul Train had broken into my apartment.

I ran to my bedroom and grabbed my personally autographed Derek Jeter model Louisville Slugger, and then bolted out into the living room in full ninja-attack-mode; wielding my personally autographed Derek Jeter model Louisville Slugger above my head like a samurai sword. I figured if that didn't scare the intruders, the fact that I was naked, dripping wet and covered from head to toe in Barbosol should.

But, there was nobody there.

No one was there, but the stereo was knocked over, the cushions from my couch were strewn about, my television screen had been smashed, the front door was kicked in, and the trunk that Shannon had left me in her will was sitting open.

It had been closed before.

A few minutes later, after a search of the apartment to make sure there was no one hiding, I called Elkie. She answered and I told her that I was pretty sure that I was either hallucinating or being fucked around with and either way it was not funny.

She told me to come over to her place. She has passes for Cedar Point for the entire weekend and wants me to go with her. Cedar Point is full of roller coasters and people who love them.

Elkie is a person who loves roller coasters.

I am not.

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