The Lurking Fear

  Yeah I know. I stole that from Sir Doyle. It's a great read if you care, even now. Better than "The Pillars of the Earth" both in prose and on TV. I like that word. "Lurk". It's like something a kid says while it's shitting in its pants and everything is going well.
            I had to get up at four AM, it's alright, I've done it before. This is a new circumstance I'm in though, Fran may sneak up on me with that goddam hand cannon she carries around and decide I'm a Goomie Goomie through her Morphine and Oxycodone and Lorazapam and whatever else she takes haze.
  I know it's loaded, I loaded it for her day before yesterday, but its double action and she may not be strong enough to pull the hammer back. I don't actually want to even know if she can or she can't. It's one of those fucking things you don't want to find out about. I would hear her walking around if she was scheming on shooting someone, and I don't, so I will leave the lights on and stay out in the open for now.
 I've already been shot at twice, to no avail for the gunsels I'm happy to say. Both times I was out of line and running away, so it is true, it ain't easy to hit a moving target. Both triggermen were cops so they were trained killers, but fuck them, they missed and I'm still free.
 Enough about that. It was a long time ago. It would be just fucking exactly what would happen to me though, "Old Fat Bald Guy, Shot By Senior Citizen"
 I went out on the patio to smoke and drink tea as soon as possible after I got up. It's so dark out here once the moon and fog have traded up that you can't see anything from after four or five feet out. The cats don't like it. I do, though.

      I wish BeBe was here...I hope she's OK.....
    Don't even tell me not to torture myself. I have dog guilt and it has to run its course. Besides that, it's my self and I can do whatever I want to it.