Blatant LOPE Ripoff Sixteen (Where is Everybody?)

Wednesday the Ninth. It's starting to feel like summer. The temperature spiked today. Yesterday it was in the sixties so far as I could tell. Today it's in the eighties definitely. And it's not even twelve PM yet. This will be fun, especially to forage in. We have enough pork rinds and beef jerky to hold off for two straight weeks without having to go out. For the early part of this morning, I was once again reminded of you-know-who. She just can't seem to keep her hands off of my ass when the opportunity presents itself.

I got up only to feel a thick hand on my rear the moment I touched the floor. My head whipped around and Samantha was in our bedroom. I gave a shout which then woke Sweet and Joanna. They both popped up like a couple of jack-in-the-boxes.

"For goodness sake, Sam, leave us alone. You woke me roommates."

"No, you did that, Alex. You shouted at me and that woke them up."

"This is my room. I let them use it. I didn't invite you into it."

She left the room with a shrug and I sighed. "See what I put up with every morning?"

After that, it was around ten. I took some pulled weeds from the fridge and gulped them down in a heartbeat. In the background, Vinnie was standing there, clearly inebriated from the ale she had scavenged from the seven eleven down round the corner. It was naturally a hot one, since there was no refrigeration, but she can't be kept away from the drinks. Too bad she can't have liquor anymore. Not without causing a hazard. The morning was another rudimentary trip around the neighborhood hoping to find somebody else has come out of limbo. No such luck.

Sweet has cheered up, thank goodness. I'm glad she did. I hope she stays so and doesn't relapse. She, Anthony, Val, Monica and I took a stroll around the block and claimed a nail. How Vinnie missed this one, I'll never know. She's been clearing the local streets and public landscapes of any magnetic metals she could, and kept them in that scrap heap in the backyard, and taking small portions out to eat. Maybe Will, Sherman, or somebody else here dropped that.

I have recently come back inside to our bedroom to take an afternoon nap. Perhaps we will have results later.

Nine June Wednesday. I don't know what I'm going to do with them. They don't hate me, if the insect horse is telling me the truth. But none of them want to be around me from what I have seen.

I am beginning to think that chopper I saw may be in some way related to that strange car and the quartet in it I saw before. Who were those four, and why did they see me with such disdain?

Anyway, on that day we first heard from emotion eating bug horse, and the day we met mare who is surprised to be a mare and won't give her real name, I found a telephone book. We still had power and a cable connection then. As before, I was on dial phone calling every number I could before the power line died, and there weren't any results. In the background, the others were watching some immature, babyish, obnoxious nostalgic cartoon on the Web. An upload of one originally broadcasted on television decades ago. I had asked them how they could be so entertained by that thing, particularly Alex, who suggested it. S/he merely rolled eyes at me and continued watching.

I had told them I wanted not to see nor hear that show again. I had been exposed enough to it as a kid. Why should I want to see it now as an adult? Or around the end of the world? I've been calling number after number, yet no response came.

I had just finished dialing a number when Alex called me into the bedroom with everybody else. A recent comment from someone on that YouTube page, who we now know to be a former banker trapped in a rather large insect's body was in plain sight. He said he was at the US Bank building and locked away inside. He hadn't had anything substantial to eat in days. "Help me." His comment suggested he was in a human midget's body, like a gnome, and had a mark on his hip that looked like a lightning blot shaped image. When we saw him the next day, no evidence was there to prove he had it, since he had then taken on his horse and beetle hybrid from and hadn't dramatically changed it since. On the day we met the new mare and they vowed to find this sender of this distress call, I has been on the phone when they tried to refresh the page.

The sound of somebody answering the phone was heard, and I could just make out a "Hell--" before the line went dead. I failed to take note of the area code, and now I'm slapping myself for it. We could have found that person, whoever she was, had I not lost the page, and the line not died, and I still left fingerprints. Plus, it's such a wide range, we'd waste much power and resources trying to scan the whole area for someone who might not be there the next day or week. Maybe we'd have found them, and Val De Lump would be lost to us, as would Sweet Stuff.

That afternoon, the first of our final two recruits who could speak English would turn up, and not be very talkative. The next, the second would be here, and be so social, I'd be surprised if his home wasn't always overcrowded and uncomfortable from all the excess company.

When the lights went out, I wanted to see the quartet I saw on the first day, as I suspected they may be clued in on what was going on. I had a feeling we would see them, and I could ask them why they were so upset to see me. It's around eight PM now, and they day was clear, hot and without a breeze. I hope it rains soon.

Samantha has been putting her hands to good use. She's been making mud pots, and using wet remains from shattered dishes for others. We haven't seen any baked results yet, due to the fact we no longer have a proper functioning oven. Based on the shouts I've been hearing the past two days, she's been groping one of us regularly. I won't pry into it. Oh, how I envy her. What I wouldn't give to have those delicate fingers of hers. It is a cruel irony that perverted people without any particular skill should have hands. I wish I had hands as I once did.

I feel like we've been stagnating, letting our minds go to no good cause. The others all seem content, save Sweet Stuff and Sherman. I wonder where they are mentally. They have both seemed somewhat absent and without cause. They haven't been in any situation the rest of us haven't. Of course, they won't let me come near them. Certainly not without more imposing company like Monica. I think he's the one who will give me the best shot at coming into his head, let our minds meet. Monotony and boredom will eat a man alive if he is not careful.

Around the evening today, I spoke with Sam to confirm she was leaving the pots outside so the warm evening and early morning sun would bake them naturally. She didn't seem all there when I tried to talk to her. She seemed somewhat distant.

When it was over, I thought she seemed somewhat like Eloise. More obnoxious for certain, but not to the extent Marcelli was. But she was sweet to me (or the others, in any case), and she seems happy and content with the world at large, in complete spite of what happened. Maybe I'll find a few seeds and surviving plants from the home improvement store where they haven't looked, and plant them someplace they haven't unearthed. Beans. I'll find my own way if I have to murder the lot.

I have been nothing short of patient since I came into this empty world, and I hope we can have a good life again. I tried one of the jigsaw puzzles, and quickly got bored with it. It was the same one we had used on the day we met Joanna. I need a new one.

Oh well. I'll write tomorrow if something interesting happens. I'll speak to someone if I have to tie them up.