192 days and 357 cement blocks
Rumbled about on June 14, 2026.
The door wouldn’t open. I facepalmed: I sealed that door up good and tight 193 days ago. It was glued, it was nailed, it was screwed, it wasn’t opening—not in a brazillion years. The rumbling, tumbling noise continued, just on the other side, unabated. I withdrew to contemplate my next move.
There was the back door. I could go out that way. No, wait, I couldn’t—I had piled 357 cement blocks outside that door—to seal it shut, too. I did that 192 days ago, when I realized sealing the front door wasn’t good enough. There was the over-sink window. And a bunch of other windows, too. Would I fit?
Well, I fit yesterday, I mumbled in my head. So unless doG had changed the laws of physics in the past 23¾ hours, I should still fit. With much scrambling, bumbling, pumbling, and cursing (but no swearing), I mounted the countertop, flung open the window, and—with Becasue and Nurdlebutt both tittering—attempted to slither blithely through the window.
I got stuck.
The noise afront of my house got louder.
Becasue broke out in uproarious laughter and went to get a push broom.
Minutes later, not much the worse for wear, I was scrambling out of a briar bush. I don’t remember planting that there, I mumbled in my head—and wondered if one of my neighbors had put it there overnight in a devious effort to sabotage my comings and goings. Well, only one thing to do—