Finally figured out Twitter today. Spent a good part of the evening entering a backlog of compelling, powerful Tweets that I’ve been documenting via mini tape recorder. Feeling a little fatigued from centralizing all heavy artillery into my bunker, but know this: The video on the last sd card is your last. I hear you, I smell you, and now I’ve seen you. It was brief, but your defenses are failing. You know what height and really sharp limbs doesn’t help with?
Get ready to go from cryptozoology to crypto-taxidermy, mothefuhudw9cnwqpodcnqepy9ch1-348jpx13hv4=80c10348dhj034inx0u[end9u[3be9u[13bd934fd\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
Because you will savor it more than any other. I’m coming after you.
I don’t know how you made a video of me getting burned alive in my motel. You’re probably a really good Photoshop nerd. Well, let me show you something I didn’t photoshop. An image of the last thing you’ll ever see.
Don’t give up now. Justin & Aaron can keep their money. I’ve found myself an adversary.
Things I already know about the dude following me:
- Photoshop nerd
- Very small and able to move quietly
- Has access to private records and information
- Probable paramilitary training comparable to my own
Scared yet? I’m dialing you in, sucker.
So, not cool. Someone was in my room last night. The perimeter I had set up using my motion sensing laptop camera apparently failed me, and I woke up with a dusty record laying on my FACE.
After securing the area of my motel room, I went back to the antique store and tried to bargain another D&D game with the owner for a record player. This time he caught wise to the fact that I was a former champion dungeonmaster, and this chump charged me 20 dollar coins to buy a record player that had no return guarantee. What, a guy won’t stand behind his product?
Alright, then, I’ve been playing along, but now, whoever you are, you’ve awoken a very angry sleeping tiger, an adversary you won’t soon forget, and if you won’t stop leaving stuff for me and reveal yourself, I’ll be forced to come find you, and I’m gonna be your worst nightmare.
I know you’re reading this. You’re tracking my movements, always watching. And you know what? I feel sorry for you. We both know the sooner you show your self the sooner you end up in a Nepalese Death Grip with a side of Brazilian Bone Knots. I have so many friends in the military you have no idea. It takes more than a Hi8 video of a guy with a gambling problem getting skinned alive to intimidate me. And the drawings of those guys robbing the bank meant nothing to me. You know what it communicated to me when all their limbs were sawed off with those blurry insect leg things and their torsos were squirming in that massive puddle of blood? It told me you’re incapable of being a man of action like myself, so you imitate my collecting prowess to spook me. Jokes on you though. Imitation is the highest form of flattery, and everyone knows snuff films have no re-sell market value.
And to the rest of you, the e-mails are getting annoying but a few of you ask good questions:
-No Jon from Oregon this is not me in the mask.
-Linda in Montana I am familiar with the HP Lovecraft short story and no I have no idea what it has to do with the mission at hand.
-“Anonymous” from “no where” why did you send me this?:
In other news, turns out the painting Dale traded me is a fake.
Slow day on new information concerning the “filmmakers” found footage, but quite a day for those that delight in such things as truth and honesty. While digging up info on recent leads at my secret research facility, I found photographic evidence that I’ve been searching years for. The discerning collector of lake monster skins and Bigfoot paws will find this mundane. But to the unenlightened, enjoy the conversion, brothers and sisters:
So the “filmmakers” sent me to the Nepalese Himalayans because some communist monk claimed to have a mini DV tape with some footage of Michael and his wife on it. Did I mention it’s dangerously cold here? Look, I was a rescue volunteer on Mt. Everest for most of my late teens, I know the ins and outs of all weather gear. But it’s way colder here than the Himalayan Tourist associations web site gave for the seasonal average, and I’m really starting to doubt the effectiveness of the titanium flakes in my micro fleece. Anyhow, this morning I was looking for an internet signal and I’m pretty sure i saw a Yeti. Here’s the picture I took:
You may noticed the non-stop blizzard makes photography impossible. So I have to wonder how my camera got 17 photos of a dead bobcat on it. Later in the morning the “filmmakers” put me in contact with Michael’s wife from the footage to verify the recorded events actually happened. She seemed really into me. When I suggested we meet up for a cup of coffee when I get back to civilization to discuss the situation further, she became reluctant. I wasn’t surprised. Women’s interest in me gives way to fear when they get a better idea of how dangerous and high stakes what I do actually is. I don’t blame her one bit. I made sure to let her know that if she needs any help through the grieving process that I’m here. I explained how many people I’ve had disappear on me, and how she should always think about ways to be better to people so that they don’t abandon her. She was so grateful she started crying and accidently hung up the phone. I went to a museum to gather my thoughts on the matter: