You see, being a logger is not all fun and games, as some people may suggest. There is at times a monotonous boredom that arouses as the green peace folks have planted themselves on the logging road, blocking you and your crew. However, this does amount to overtime hours, so the result it bittersweet.
But as I was sitting in my chair, now permanently molded to fit the contour of my back and butt, playing vigorous rounds of solitaire training my reflexes and coordination, as preparation for the nazi uprising that we were all suspecting, I couldn�t help but think, �do aliens exist, and if so, what do they look like?�
And that, my friends, is when I heard the noises. That�s right, the skittering sound of six little arms and legs making their way across a hard tile floor. �a scout!� I nearly yelled in fright. But after the initial shock, coolness came upon me; I knew what I had to do. I had to kill it. For, you see, cockroaches, although they do not very smart, are quite the contrary. They are quite intellectual; I once had a conversation with a cockroach that lasted four hours over humanitarian morals and Plato�s ideal society. But roaches are not all as friendly as this apparent deserter of the cockroach army was. The roachian forces have the intent and the power to destroy western civilization, as we know it.
But you see, our black hard bodied, shiny, six legged, antennae bearing, darkness-loving enemies have but a flaw in their system of military. Since they are bound to live in the walls and ceiling spaces of our buildings. Their military power is not strong enough to emerge form the dark crevasses, so the send out a scouts to recon and report what is going on. They mark our daily activities and to set a timetable of our happenings, to eventually assassinate us. Their first targets are primarily world leaders, such as presidents and military leaders. But in their observations, they anticipate those who will be eventual leaders in the once their generation came to power. So I knew I was in danger and being watched.
So, there I sat with a chore in front of me
�the game�
the summer heat left had left me house bound. If I were to leave the house into the hot, hot heat that was beyond my bedroom window, which I used to observe the current state of the outdoors, the near flaming heat would hit my lungs knocking me backwards, and I would trip falling on my concrete walkway. Then, my body, not used to such natural light, would go into a shock. I would lie there on the walkway absorbing the ultra-violet rays, causing my skin to blister and burn, I would be sweating immensely, which would
