The Shadow reporting. . .
Upper Arlington -- Amidst all the trouble with aliens and the government conspiring to keep us fat, we seem to have lost track of the fact that the focus of this website is me, The Shadow. Other than the very last article, the last twelve or more consecutive articles on the site have been written by either The Fat Kid or the Third Fictional Reporter. In order to lighten the mood, and refocus directly on ME, I have decided to talk about my latest move from the facilities of L’École Des Beaux Lézards to my new purposefully low-tech facilities in scenic Upper Arlington. In order to accomplish this in grand style, I will leach off the popularity of our most popular article ever, HIZZLES.
So, this is my front door. It has the, um, you know, those big weeds and stuff, and that’s all to the good, you know, because you can hide behind them when the aliens roll up. Or the park rangers come to kick us out. I mean, some of that is poison ivy, and some of it is ragweed, and then, like, poison oak. And sumac. . . You know, but it isn’t unusual for people to have giant noxious weeds by their front doors, or, like, under the steps or something. That’s just a sort of thing that grows everywhere, and there’s nothing you can do about that. No shame in that. And then that big thing on the white pole there is the meter that tells the, like, emergency services people, when the river is rising above safe levels. Living, you know, under the bridge, um. . . I don’t really need that.
And then this, you know, is the weird plastic box thing that I’m sort of afraid to touch. It was here from the time I got here, and I don’t know whose it is or when it got there, but I’m not messing with it. I mean, it has that look, like there might have been some long-ago disappeared chick’s hacked-off limbs in there, and that’s why there’s that weird lock and stuff. I’m kind of afraid that someday the CSI people are gonna show up and start messing with me. But, um, just for the record. . . I didn’t do it. I mean, anything. I don’t know who was involved with what, or anything else.
So, this is the living room. . . and kitchen, and bathroom, and office, and you know, you do everything here because. . . there’s nowhere else.
This is the, um, filthy hobo blanket that I sort of inherited when I moved in. And it’s kind of appropriate. I think those designs on it are like, authentic Navaho designs. I mean, I don’t really know that, but, I’m saying. . . I kind of think that, like, it’s more like, um. . . like kids brought that down here to have something to lie on when they’re fucking. I mean, you know, like young teenagers are always fucking each other in weird places because like, parents and stuff. . . they want to stop them. Like, when I was a kid I knew this young couple, when we were like 15 or something, and they used to fuck in the bathroom at the batting cages. But so, um, I forget what I was trying to get at. I mean, young teenagers are, like. . . awesome. Oh, but the blanket, though. Um, I think that it was more likely brought here by teenagers or something than hobos or homeless people. I mean, we don’t really have homeless people in this area. You know, except for me.
So, then, this is the river, which is just a conduit for what the government has us calling “water,” which is ridiculous. I mean, it’s only been called that since the Great Thing Where They Added Clouds to Stuff of 1952. But anyway, that’s where we get our water for, you know, drinking, and coffee and tea, and cooking and stuff. But, you know, you have to get it at the right time because there are signs all over near the river that say that when it rains the sewers overflow and raw sewage gets into the river, so, you know, on rainy days we sometimes get cholera. It sucks.
OK, and this is the sign that says that, um, the river is dangerous. I mean, it’s only dangerous when it’s raining, so, like, you can drink it the rest of the time, like I said. It’s just. . . don’t touch it, though. And you can see from the sign that there might be an overflow when it’s dry out, so, you know, you just have to keep an eye out for poop. Make sure you don’t touch it. I mean, that’s all you can do, right? Try not to touch any poop.
This is the view from our living room/every other room. It has the, like, driftwood. You know, and the dead birds. I don’t know if you can see them but the big fat-ass Canadian-looking geese around here sometimes die from mercury exposure, and they sink because they’re so heavy, and so, like, you can see them out there when the river rolls them along the bottom. But mostly you don’t have to look at that. Mostly it’s about the driftwood and the pylons, and the water. Waterfront property, man, it’s like prime and stuff. You could get a lot of money for a riverfront set-up if you, like. . . owned it. And there was something built on it. Other than a foot bridge.
This is sort of like my backyard, also known as the stone circle. And mostly now this is used. . . by teenagers who are really in need of a good place to get high. I mean, you can sit on them. They’re nice and flat. And if the cops roll down the cemetery path, then you can jet out the back way to the bike trail and, you know. . . fall down. Cause if you’re high, you’re really not going to get that far in the dark.
And then this is the one that has the ancient symbol of sticks and a rectangle, that is, like, really important. I kind of forget why that is, exactly. I don’t have my notes in front of me. But I mean, it was brought here by, like, the aliens, I think.
So then this is the cemetery. I think this is the last picture. And, um, you know, this is where I max and relax. Being a big balla shot calla and everything. These are kind of like, you know, like my friends. Like, the Davises and everything. They’re dead, but I’m saying. . . So, that’s that. That’s the end of my Hizzles tour. So, you know, get the hell out of my. . . woods.
