Excerpts from my memoirs
Excerpts from my memoirs
Out of context: Reply #19
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Thursday 23rd May 1998.
The Ogre is after my toenail clippings.
He saw me organizing them, and couldn't help but amble over to investigate -- NO, to spy on me. His breath smells of decay. Asked me if I knew wehre any small children were playing. He eats them. No doubt in my mind. His hands were still red. Probably stained from the tomatoes. Maybe it's blood. Children's blood.
I broke into his house and took a shit in his fridge. Ogres hate human waste. It's a fact.