haydenarrrrgh: I'd prefer a beer and a root (new window, #15), probably in that order.

It's hard work. I try to keep up, but my hands hurt most of the time. I don't think the store manager likes me very much. Sometimes after work I go to the park and feed the birds. I keep thinking Jake might show up and say hello, but he never does. I hope wherever he is, he's doing okay and making new friends.

I have trouble sleeping at night. The bed is too big. I have bad dreams, like I'm falling. I wake up scared. Sometimes it takes me a while to remember where I am.

Maybe I should get me a gun and rob the Foodway, so they'd send me home. I could shoot the manager while I was at it, sort of like a bonus. But I guess I'm too old for that sort of nonsense anymore.

I don't like it here. I'm tired of being afraid all the time. I've decided not to stay.

I doubt they'll kick up any fuss. Not for an old crook like me.