Martin parked in my goddamn spot again. I swear I’m going to tell the landlord and get him in so much trouble. What is the point of having our own spots if nobody is going to abide by the code?? Honestly, my neighbors are savages. I guess I’ll write him another stern letter.

On Saturdays, after spending the day with Mom-Mom and Pep-Pep, I like to try to watch the all six Star Wars movies back to back to back to back. Well, I like to try to watch the three real Star Wars movies and then watch the abortions they made years later. It was on a Saturday when I heard the knock on the door.

MY GOD!!! Upon opening the door I was rushed by 7 live pigs. The first one knocked me down, and then the following pigs trampeled me. At least three of them peed on me. And once inside, they went truly batshit. Ripping my furniture to shreds, knocking over my television. And the poop. my god the poop.

Enter Martin. That sly sonofagun. “I got your letter nerd. Don’t ever try to get stern with me! You know I like to park in your spot because the sun warms the interior! Deal with it.” “Where did you get these pigs?!” “Ha, you mean, how did I teach these kids to smoke meth!” “Your sick! This one keeps biting me! Please take them with you, you can have my spot!” “No way idiotface! You mess with the big dog, I will shit on your face when your asleep! Have fun with these pigs, some of which are rabid, and do not think I will not be reporting this to the landlord. There is a strict no pet policy in the complex.”

Now I have to deal with these pig corpses. Luckily enough 4 of them had massive heart attacks from the meth, so i only had to murder 3. Which was horrifying. It took nearly all of my throwing knives. Jeeves has no idea how to remove Pig blood from carpet, and couches, and bed sheets and car interiors.

Trying to drop off 7 bloody pig corpses off at the dump is neither fun, nor smart. I’ve got court in a month. Fiddlesticks, what a day.

Upon my return home, Martin was out of my spot! But. In my spot was a buring pile of something. Close inspection confirms that it is a pile of my clothes and some furniture. Also several pictures of me that I have never seen before. A note was on my door. “I call fives on your spot buttsniffer! - MaRtIn- bigdog316@prodigy.net. ps thanks for the kindling jackweed!” My phone is ringing.

My landlord called. I seem to have been evicted. And I’ve lost my deposit. And am being investigated for Arson. Fiddlesticks.