I'm on my last straw, dear readers. I'm not some whiny and crazy man trying to get attention by writing some make-believe story on a blog. I could care less if you read on. I'm running out of ideas for survival and I think I don't have many days left of my life.
Now what's wrong?
Well let me tell you.
It started several months ago, when I was still married and more importantly still an excellent reporter for The Weekly Melase. It's a very popular paper that got lot of readers by reporting strange and unusual incidents happening here in Melase, Nova Scotia; which tended to happen a lot.
I was assigned to write about Meteor Mike, the local weatherman who one day snapped and reported a meteor heading directly at the town. Of course that turned out to be bogus and he was fired, then like a few weeks later he was found dead in his apartment, laying comfortably as a corpse in his own bed.
But my search for anything noteworthy about his death and the whole meteor incident turned up negative. So I just kind of stretched out what I knew and called it a day.
At home I had a bad stomacheache, so I got some pills and went to sleep. My wife was on a trip with my daughter and sisters, so I decided to call it an early night.
I had an odd dream, it was something about a bunch of grey and black slime covering my body.
To me it wasn't noteworthy at the time, but I wish I would've paid attention to it more.
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