Day Six.

I went for a walk today, just to clear my head. I mean, I don’t need to tell you there’s a lot of shit going on in my life right now. Seriously, the last thing I need on my plate right now is another shin-related issue. But no, of course, it’s never enough. So I learned today that, apparently, Zach has already been kicked in the shins. I felt so betrayed. It’s that bastard Tom. Now every time I walk into the room, I catch them going at it, Tom’s stupid, ugly graceless foot gliding down Zach’s exposed thigh, his face tightened with sweet, exquisite pain. It just sickens me. I go away and to throw up. Why? I mean, why? All I wanted was to kick Zach squarely in the lower leg regions – just once, I’m not greedy. Is that too much to ask?

Dammit, Tom. Why did you have to come between us, between my steel-capped toes and Zach’s bare shin? Well, it’s not for much longer. I’ve long had a secret plan in place to deal interlopers. I’m afraid, Tom, that your time is running out – sport you while you may. You may have been Zach’s first, but when I kick him in the shins he’ll be in so much pain that you’ll be driven far, far from his mind. Yeah, driven. Like you will be. Off a cliff.

So tomorrow, assuming my plan to murder and dump the body of his current partner goes to plan, I will kick Zach in the shins.

Listening to: Nancy Sinatra - These Boots Were Made For Walking