(no subject)
I DO love a good jog.
I left just before dawn this morning, stretching first on the front lawn, then taking off down the street, loving the springy feel of my best sneakers, loving the silken feel of my soft, soft, SO-soft grey sweats. I swear I'll never get rid of these things. They've only been around the world with me three times.
Calories consumed last night: uncounted, but very likely well above the 2000 line. Hence, I will work a bit harder over the next week to make sure I suffer no ill effects. This includes an extra jogging session in the morning and an extra kata at night, plus LOTS of water until my eyeballs float. A bit on the paranoid side? Eh, maybe. All I know is, my method of making sure my body is healthy works, so who's going to knock it?
I jog for a good hour, enjoying how quiet everything is, with all the shops closed and just a few cars on the road and almost NOBODY walking around. The punks are in bed; daylight is anathema to them. Ironic. By the time I get back to Gustav's, rounding the corner, I have a light sweat on my skin and I'm breathing JUST a little heavily. Mmmm. A good run.
Need water.
I slow as I approach, loving the fact that dawn makes his house look salmon pink. Heh heh. And I'm so intent on getting inside that I damn near run right past the strange car in the driveway.
What the hell?
Somebody's here? Some strange person? Maybe needing Gustav's help, or... or...
...red car.
RED. CAR.
"...KLAUS??"
The word squeaks from me - yes, SQUEAKS, and that's no small trick from a natural alto - before I can stop it. Because I know, know, KNOW that this is his, without a shadow of a doubt, and he gave it to me ANYWAY.
Okay. Okay. I can deal with this.
Step one: stop gawking like an idiot at it with your mouth open. Flies will get in.
Step two: get inside and shower before you take any more steps, or they're going to involve a sledgehammer and broken glass and that WON'T be pretty.
...step three: avoid the Zombie.
I jump back OUT of the house so quickly I don't even remember opening the door again, which maybe was an overreaction. My heart is POUNDING. What the hell is THAT doing here? WHAT THE HELL?
And what the hell else did he LEAVE?
"Hi," I suddenly say inanely, because the Twilight Zone IS NOW. What the hell am I doing, it can't talk.
"Nuh," it says, confirming that idea.
It's also not moving. Hey, okay, why not. He left me a fucking CHAUFFEUR.
Sorry, Klaus, this is a bit over the top.
"I'm sorry, kid," I tell the thing - apologizing to zombies now, this is what spending too much time with Sophie will do to you - and lifting one of Gustav's trusty stakes, I send the thing on to its final rest.
Great. Dust. On the floor.
Which I will deal with AFTER I DEAL WITH THE FRICKING CAR.
Slow breath. Keys on the table; note on the table. Oh, LOVELY. What's THIS going to say? He's installing satellite next? Already HAS installed cameras so we can watch each other all day long like some sort of sicko Escher version of a mental ward?
Note. Read the note.
Vroom, vroom sweetie!
Love,
K
Nope, that does it. Can't deal with this. Taking a shower now. I drop the note into the box carrying all his other dubious declarations of love and head straight toward the bathroom.