I would rather be eaten in my front yard by wild dogs, but it's not to be. I'm heading over to Spokane where I will no doubt be eaten by something much worse.
It's all a series of exchanges, really. You're trading one thing for another thing. Now: was my Spokane rent, in fact, two hundred and eighty dollars? Yes! It was a weird little studio thing with a maze-like internal structure but more than apt for the modern gamer. Did you hear the occasional gunshot? Also yes! Once when Brenna left I thought I heard a scream outside, and I ran out to the street in my underwear, but her car was gone. That wasn't actually enough information to know if she was safe, and she didn't have a cellphone. This was a time when owning a cellular phone would have been somewhat weird, unnecessary, quirky, a foible - something like wearing a monocle. So, of course I had one. As for the rest of it, I had to wait until morning to find out.
Portions of it have been razed and fancified, I understand that they've recently discovered the existence of gluten and work diligently - upon request - to ameliorate its harmful effects. It's a strange place broadly that is having a hard time figuring out what it is. You know how, when you're playing SimCity, you can make changes that cause areas to vacillate quickly between apocalyptic ruins and modern living? To the extent that, sometimes, they appear to be superimposed over one another? It's like that.
(CW)TB out.
