I. Am. Alive.
Author: Raven Productions

Chapter 10
Slave Orphans!

You won't believe this! Shit just got real. I got a visit from the three wise men, following a star in a form of a fucking kid. I've never been that big on Christmas, so I didn't appreciate the surprise arrival. I kicked some serious zombie ass last night. It was glorious, but my foot seems to be royally fucked. So, the only gift the fucktards brought was the fucking star. The gypsy bastards stole it and left it upon my roof. Have I ever mentioned my hatrad for kids? No? Well, I fucking hate kids. They are needy, useless waste of space. They can't do anything worthwhile and demand constant attention. They also slow you down. Don't get me wrong, I treat them very well. And I'm quite good with children and it comes naturally. I just can't stand the little whiney bastards. I could've been a great mother... Ha ha. Anyways, I guess I am a mother now.

Her name is Amelia and she is 9 and a half. Well done to her. Perfect age for slave labour. I kid, I kid. When the layers upon layers of dirt is removed from her face, body and hair, she is actually quite cute. She also seems to be very mature for her age. I'm not really surprised she survived. Also, she has some attitude. I like her. She gave out to me for assuming that she would not know what 'dehydration' is and gave me a whole lecture on how assumptions make a fool out of both you and me. I love smart people, even if they haven't hit puberty yet. She warmed up to me quite quickly. I told her that even though I am happy about it, she still shouldn't trust people that easily. She just told me that she was well known for her ability to read people. I just grinned and dropped the subject. I'm not even that pissed off for having to take care of her. I really do like her.

Protip for bad parenting no. 1: Force them to drink coffee in the morning because they are sleepy and you need them to help you wipe the blood of the floor.

Protip for bad parenting no 2: Ask them to help you wipe blood of the floor.

Protip for bad parenting no. 3: Pat them on the back for a job well done and offer them a cigarette.

If the kid will stay alive for long or even will live with me, I'm pretty sure she will grow up to be a fucked-up teenager. At least she refused the cigarette. I dressed her in my oversized Nightmare Before Christmas T-shirt which perfectly works as a stylish dress. And kudos to her for asking me not to put any sugar in her coffee. She said that she has always wanted her first coffee experience to be black, just the way it was intended. I am all for black coffee. No sugar, no milk, no cream. Well, milk or cream was not an option this morning and nor do I think it will be tomorrow morning. She seemed to be unhappy with the bitter taste, but after a few sips, she was drinking it like a pro. She even mentioned coffee being one of those drinks you just had to acquire liking for. I have new found respect for the kid. Even I couldn't drink it without sugar at the age of 13. And she is 4 years younger! Hell yeah for finding bad-ass orphans! Well, I assume she is an orphan. She is not yet ready to talk about her experiences, but I'm pretty sure her parents are dead. Or living dead. One or the other. Both possibilities suck. But she seems as tough as a nail. Lucky me. I hate whiney kids.

So yeah, this entry is a short one. I have to finish cleaning the shack and I might even reward myself with another mug of coffee. So long fucker(s)!!!


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