Week Six Journal #1

Getting home was never fun. It meant that I had nothing better to do than sleep and manage my miserable existence.

I never smoked in my small rented house. It cost an extra seventy five dollars a month for that privilege. I stepped out of my side door, since it was more convenient than walking all the way to the front, not to mention it didn’t directly face the street. I grabbed my cigarettes from my pocket and noticed I would be smoking the last one in my possession. I lit it up and didn’t inhale the first drag, a weird habit I had ever since I had started smoking.

I got about halfway through my cigarette and noticed something in my side yard. I could only see its shape, it looked about the size of a raccoon, although it did not move. Curious, I walked out into the yard and bent down for a closer look.

It was just a bunched up bedsheet. Why would someone place a bedsheet in the middle of my lawn? It wasn’t windy at all tonight, so there was no way a whole sheet made it’s way into my lawn.

Something rustled in the bushes to my back. I looked behind me. Nothing. I looked to the right. Still Nothing.

Next thing I knew I was on the ground, instinctively flailing my arms at whatever it was that just tackled me in my own damn yard. Teenagers these days have no boundaries whatsoever, I thought to myself. Thinking was a big mistake, because as fast as I was flailing my arms, there were two guys on top of me flailing theirs, although in a much more disciplined and aware manner.

I was out cold after what I estimated to be thirty seconds.