Friday, September 14, 2012

The Journals of Sven Skarsnook: Day 42 (or is it 43?)

Like I said, I don't know how to count. I do know it's been six weeks since people started shining bright lights in my face.

They took me to ANOTHER one of those events with whistles last night, this one even longer than the first. I recognized some of the littler giants trying not to get hit by the ball. They were wearing the same clothes. But some of them were either wearing different clothes or were different littler giants. There was also some gawdawful horn that they didn't have last time. I had to have my diaper changed after it went off the first time.


I took a trip today and saw a whole bunch of new giants. I like these trips, generally. Unless I get hungry and they just leave me in the back of the ship to howl and howl and howl. Do they stop? Hell, no. I need to find a new way to communicate with these monsters. Wish I could get my hands on a pointy stick. That'd do the job.

I have decided to escape from my captors at my earliest opportunity. It hasn't been a totally unpleasant captivity -- there's that stuff the nice giant feeds me, for instance, and some pretty cute outfits, if I do say so myself -- but prison is prison. Am I a person or a pet? THAT is the question.

Anyhow, I've been squirreling away odds and ends that I can get my hands on, in case I can use them in my breakout. So far, I have two nooks, a clean diaper, a rattling thing, and a hammer. Let me tell you, finding that hammer was a stroke of good fortune.

Me. With three of the littler giants. The one in the middle is the one at the whistling event. It got hit several times. I almost felt sorry for it. Almost.

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