That afternoon, I got up to my front door, pleasantly reminiscing about my escapades earlier that day. It always feels good to make people laugh. I sobered up as soon as I saw my front door. Nailed on the door was a glove, and not just any glove, but a white glove made of leather with a silver stripe down the ring finger. Not just any glove, this was my grandfather’s glove. I was scared. What was happening? This was bad. Man, I love my grandfather. I threw down my bookbag into some nearby bushes and tried opening the window to the left of the door. It slid open. My enemy had clearly left it open on purpose for me. I had a strange feeling of queasiness as I couldn’t stop but think that Roy was going to be in some serious trouble. Roy was my grandfather, if any of you were too dumb to figure out that connection, and now you made me mess up my movement of misgivings. Ooh, alliteration. Yeah, I spent time looking on a thesaurus to make that alliteration work. This really should be an AI, but whatever.

I crept into the house. I scrutinized the living room to check for any tampering. I couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary. So I decided to go inside the ordinary to see if I could find anything. Nope, nothing. So I went back out and continued my tiptoe through the room. I heard something above me and I dove back, just in time to dodge the cannonball. Crap, the enemy has cannons. Inside a house, nonetheless. I looked at the mess the cannonball made of the floor. I reminded myself to be more vigilant. Good thing all these years of training honed my reflexes not unlike another guy who had honed reflexes from years of training. I sprinted up my stairs with my arms over my head. I realized that they wouldn’t really have much protection against those cannonballs, but it made me comfortable. Like maybe my hands could deflect the bombs to the side. When I got to the top of the stairs, I dove on all fives. Yeah, I said five. Mine’s long enough to be counted as a limb, if you know what I mean. I crawled on the Persian rug, praying that I wouldn’t be hit while I was prone. I saw a shadow on the ground in front of me and I did a quick roll to the left. Ouch, the ensuing crash sent flying projectiles that clipped my shoulder. I dove into my room, sprang up, and quickly locked the door behind me. I was scared, I admit it. I slowly advanced to my desk, my heart tubthumping like that song Tubthumping, by Chumbawumba. Actually, I wasn’t drunk and I didn’t really get knocked down and get up again, so that’s a really bad simile. I knew what I had to do. I opened the second from the bottom drawer on the right side of my desk. I reached all the way in the back of the drawer and drew out a gun. I took a big gulp of air. Yeah, I knew what I had to do.

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Hey guys, it’s me again. I just wanted to let you all know that I really have to take a piss. While I take my piss, I’ll occupy you by leaving you a riddle.

It’s seven and four, yet green.
It makes me feel so mean.
It makes my soul longs for shame.
Reminds me that’s it’s not a game.
It makes me want to take a hit.
Try and guess; what is it?

Did you get it? Keep trying, you’ll get it eventually.

Alright, the answer was, I just made that up on the spot and it makes no sense whatsoever. Did any of you get it?

By the way, I actually did take a piss while writing this.

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I could feel the gun begging me to shoot it, kind of like that dog that has rabies. This was dangerous. I slid out of my room and proceeded towards Roy’s room. As I proceeded, I could feel my fear taunting me, spanking me on the backside and yelling out, “Post-its! Post-its!” Metaphorically speaking, of course. I got up to the door, and instantly I froze with fear. Nailed on the door was a glove, and not just any glove, but a white glove made of leather with a silver stripe down the ring finger. This was going to be bad. I went inside and saw Roy sitting on a rocking chair grinning at me madly. In his hands were water balloons. He started cachinnating (look it up) while throwing them at me. I wove left and right, dodging the cannonballs and laughing the whole time while squirting him with the water gun in my hand. Man, I love my grandfather.