Why I hate Halloween

First, I know I was supposed to get my Manufactured Newborn post up. That was delayed by testing on what I can do with Bob.

I told you my name is Cham.

Shut the fuck up Bob or I'm giving you another two hours of Happy Fun Time.

Shutting up.

More on Bob in a little bit, but first about the title. I used to love Halloween. Then I found out what the world was really like. These days I can't go out or answer the door on Halloween. It's not that I'm scared of Them or their servants, I'm scared of me. Some of you may have noticed my slight tendency towards paranoia, Halloween does not help with that.

Is that guy in the mask a Proxy or are they just on their way to a party? What about that lady dressed as a marionette? And the guy who walked past my house five minutes ago. Was that just a monkey costume or did fucking Mikey from that God damned show that replaced Candle Cove just walk through my neighborhood? Called in an anonymous tip after I saw him so the police would increase the surveillance on Janice just in case. I'm not letting out any secrets when I say this is the one night of the year that these fuckers are safe in my neighborhood. I just can't take the risk that I'll make a mistake and kill someone who's on their way to a costume party.

Now about Bob. There are several reasons I've been able to keep control with him in here. Primarily there's the fact that he's weak and I'm very single minded giving me a sort of strength of will. Also soon after I found out what was really going on with the world I began trying to strengthen my mind. Enough of the Fears have a negative effect on peoples mental states that I figured a regimen of meditation would help strengthen my will and maybe keep some of the worst at bay. And when I learned of the Grotesque I began practicing lucid dreaming techniques just in case they might help. It was the later that gave me the punishment I use when Bob gets on my nerves.

It's probably not going to shock many of you to hear that there is a part of my mind where my first kill takes place over and over again in a never ending loop of blood and screaming with my laughter over it all. The man took twenty minutes to die. It would have been longer but I wasn't good at preventing shock and blood loss. When Bob deserves Happy Fun Time I put Bob into the body of the man who killed my wife and he lives through what I did to him over and over until I let him out again. So if I gave him that threatened two hours he would live through that pain and fear six times before I let him out again. It's safe to say Bob does not like Happy Fun Time.

As for what I can get Bob to do . . .

As it turns out Bob is weak enough that while I can coerce some benefit out of him I'm not going to close gaping wounds in minutes. I can get him to heal bumps and bruises that would last a day or two in a couple hours. I might be able to prevent myself from bleeding out if an ambulance can get to me fast enough in a real emergency. Someone suggested increasing strength, speed, and agility. He can, but I only wind up able to lift about twenty five pounds more than normal. Speed and agility increases are proportional with the strength boost. So, useful but not exactly super powers. And I wind up paying with an annoying rash, headaches, and nausea. No matter how much Happy Fun Time I threaten him with there's nothing Bob can do to prevent that, it's simply the nature of the Dying Man.

My other thought was that I might be able to use him for information. It turns out that while Bob does know many things his information is not reliable. It's not that he lies to me, he only did the once. Right Bob?

Never again. Don't you think six hours of Happy Fun Time was a little excessive?

Don't talk back Bob or you'll get more. No, the problem with his information is Dimensional Bleeding. Bob, it turns out, is not a local. Among other issues where Bob came from JCarlson did chase after Janice when she was kidnapped, but the man who was allegedly Omega (I'm still not convinced any such person as the Unlucky Man actually exists) didn't show up and he was killed by that bell ringer who attacked him.

So, I'm still in control of Bob and I'm getting some use out of him. It's about time to lock my door and be sure my lights are out.

Stay Alert, Stay Alive.

A warning

The computer I'm currently using is safe, the only hold up on those Manufactured Newborn posts is research. But something has come to my attention that you need to be careful of. You may have heard of the blog  called B-Movie monsters, by the blogger B-Movie Max (this is one case where I will NOT be linking to it. If you go looking for it after I warn you what happens to you is your own damn fault.). He reviewed B grade horror movies. Some of them, by a studio called Horma, were about the Fears. They even featured characters with familiar names and back stories even though the movies were clearly made before the blogger named in the movie had their first encounter with the Fears. The last movie he watched, the last movie he will ever watch, was titled The Art of Dying. It was about the Dying Man. In fact due to some sort of deal with the Wooden Girl it apparently contained a Fragment. Now so does the final post on the blog. And everyone who reads the post. Yes that includes me. Fortunately he's spread himself a little thin with this strategy. The fragments are weak and my single minded devotion to my cause makes my will strong.

I don't think he likes it in here. It's the first time I've heard of a fragment saying "Let me out!"  Help me. This freak scares the shit of me. Someone get me out of here. Fuck off you. I can think of six ways to kill myself that would leave no body to be found and no one nearby when I died for you to infect. If I think you've been hurting anyone through me you fucking well know I'll do it. Now, I've heard from Mathias' blog that you guys can sometimes help your host heal injuries . . . we have a lot to talk about and some experimentation to do.

Computer trouble

Sorry I've been out of the loop for a bit. I've had computer problems. Mainly the problem you sometimes get where your laptop grows legs, assimilates a few mice from your walls, and then it tries to assimilate you and bring you back to the Tower (not the Screaming one, the one made of metal meat and bone). So I beat my computer to death with a hammer, incinerated the remains with bathtub thermite, and bought a new one. Assuming this one doesn't try to kill me too you can expect a few posts on the Manufactured Newborn coming soon.