We almost got tornado'd in the ass.
At first we just went out on the porch admiring the hailstones (ping-pong sized). Rake watched from the windows, because apparently the earlier storm where the lights went out was indeed funfunfunFUN for him outside...
So we're oohing and ahhing, admiring the stones...
Wellup, we're either in Silent Hill or there's a pissed off wind formation heading our way.
We booked it into the cellar with the animals and the weirdos. I'm in there dual-wielding Preston and my inhaler, Lya's snuggling with Blitz off in Don'tGiveAFuck Corner, Matt's just lying there bored, and Rake's glancing around the room looking for a place to hang out.
Slender found a spare chalkboard. Three guesses as to what the fucker wrote. First two don't count.
Asked Him why he ignores spaces here. He shrugged. I'm thinking He's just trying to piss us off.
Storm ends. Happyfacing resumes.
Got two emails so far on CellarDoor-Xfirstname.lastname@example.org . One from Aiden of IdyllicClone who seems to be living in a 'safe zone', one from Alex, who was saved by Slender but is now beng stalked because he attacked Him instead of sending a thank-you note. (Seriously what does the big fucker expect, He's TERRIFYING, nobody's gonna react by pledging undying allegiance or with gift baskets...) Love received, buddies. Thanks for the well-wishing and 10x back to you.
Keep it up, guys.
(Oh, and Trinity? Yup. Rake got scared by a fucking toaster. Hilarity ensued.)
~Jack's OK, and he's back, OK
He's all right
Let's shout, make a fuss
Scream it out, wheee
Jack is back now, everyone sing
In our town of Hal-~...
...Well fuck. Not really a town so much as an interconnecting web of blogs.