This is the part of the blog where I write about my day for those interested.

To further my plan and kill Aquaman in an elegant and -- if I may say -- a poetic fashion, I'd first need some radio jamming equipment. I had a dealer downtown who often dealt in electronics of questionable legality, but before I got there, I noticed a pair of eyes in a window three stories above me.

Damnable monkey eyes. Staring at me. Boring into my soul.

Apparently the lone survivor had followed me, deciding to attack me when I was away from home... when I was more vulnerable.

I pulled out my .45. If the monkey wanted to end things now, I was game.

I charged into the apartment building, running to the third story and counting doors until I was pretty sure I had the apartment the monkey must have hid in. I then kicked in the door as I disengaged the thumb safety on my gun.

The family inside screamed at me. "It's okay; I'm a popular blogger," I told them as I kept my eyes down the sights of my gun looking for monkey movement.

I heard scurrying and fired two shots through the wall.

"Maybe we should call the police," the mother there said.

I grabbed the cordless phone from her and smashed it against the wall. "They'd only get in the way." I heard a window open and ran into the kitchen. The breeze billowed the drapes and I looked out the window for the monkey expecting to see him scurrying down the a pipe.

A cabinet popped open behind. I spun around and tried to aim my gun, but I was too late. I got off one unaimed shot before two monkey feet slammed me in chest sending me out the window. I plummeted towards the streets, smashing into a soft top car. Through pained-filled eyes, I could see the monkey jump out the window and fly off in a little monkey hang glider.

Outsmarted by a monkey. It was not a good day.

"Having trouble, Mr. Fleming?"

I recognized the voice. It was Aquaman. I groped around me until I found my gun. I then put it back into its in-the-waist holster and rolled off of the car. "I'm doing awesome. How are those swimming lessons at the Y working out for you?"

He glared at me. "I'm keeping an eye on you."

I shrugged. "What? Is it suddenly illegal to fall out of a window?" I walked off to finish my errand.

I still can't believe his obsession with me; it's not like he actually cares about some dead monkeys. It's not my fault what happened to you last year, Mr. Curry, but, when you die, it will be by my hands.

That I swear.

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Rating: 2.9/5 (5 votes cast)

State of the Frank Report
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