I am bored out of my skull.
I've got all these things around me, little knick-knacks and snacks, computer screens and lean cuisine, lots of books and a little chess rook, a mountain of notes beside a bottled pirate boat - so many things that I could use to have fun with myself.
But the electricity is out and I can't see so none of that crap matters, now does it?
The detritus on the floor is blocking my path out to the rest of this ungodly-huge-for-a-bachelor house where I keep the flashlights, but since I can't see my own hands I would most certainly trip on one of the model figurines on the ground, impaling myself on a model sword. There are less badass ways to go for sure, but tonight is not the night for deadly badassery.
So I'm sitting here. At my desk, in my increasingly less cozy chair. Bored. Bored bored bored. Hopelessly bored. Bored like a hole through a board. Bored like a man gored by a boar. Bored. Bored bored bored.
Until the damn electricity comes back on.
Or my mini figurines make like Toy Story 3 and burn. I never saw the end of Toy Story 3, but I'm pretty sure they all burn. Or something.
Scratch that, I don't want the model figures to burn. I spent a lot of money on them. Replacing them all would set me back a chunk.
Note to self - find cheaper hobbies.
Thank you, self - the note has been stored where it will immediately be forgotten because YOU CAN'T WRITE ANYTHING DOWN DIMWIT.
Smartphone is upstairs. Tablets scattered in every room except this one. Good going, James, you've done it again.
And I've drunk all my water.
So this is how I die; of thirst or drowning in my own piss while bored bored bored.
B-O-R-E-D.
The word "bored" is boring to me now. And it no longer sounds like a real word, just a gelatinous collection of noises. Bored. It's like the sound a caveman would make while having sex.
Goddamn, I haven't gotten any in ages. Then again, I haven't been out of the house or had anyone here in ages so I guess that makes sense.
Bored. It sounds like the cries a fat Swedish dickhead that got stuck in a fjord. Bjord bjord bjord.
What the hell is a fjord anyway? Let me look up a picture - OH WAIT.
What's that feeling in my chest? Heart burn? Could be; burritos and pizza diet is hell on the intestinal tract.
Wonderful; vomiting the boredom away is exactly what I wanted.
No - not quite - it's a bit of a dull pain. But it's fading now. So that's good.
Well, damn. I was afraid something exciting was going to happen. Heart attack, heart burn, malfunctioning digestive tract, chestburster - anything, something to spoil this rotten monotony.
Nope? Okay.
Wheee. Whoppie.
I am twiddling my thumbs. I have officially regressed to the mental capacity of a five year old. Situation is getting desperate, folks.
Thudding in my chest again - oooooh, maybe something will happen! Stay tuned, you don't want to miss this rollercoaster of a thrillride!
Oh oh ohuouhohOOhooooo that is starting to hurt a bit!
Ah, shit - fell outta my chair and sprawled my fat wheezing ass all over the floor.
It appears as though I can't get up.
Ooooooooooooooh everything is pulsating and black, this is going well.
I wonder if Hell is more interesting than this -
Oh. The power's on. That's