I.LOVE.YOU.

There I stood, going through the remaining cards I had up my sleeve.

- Use Spanish accent to throw Peefy off.
- The Joker, anything goes
- "Hey look! Duke Nukem Forever lying on the floor behind you! *flee*"

and last but not least
- The brother card; 1.4: Peefy, how can you not tell?! I'm your half-brother! The better half at that!

Maybe next weekend.

For twenty years I've told myself "Never leave the house without an empty jar, you'll never know when it may be of use". Today was a good day, the jar I had been hiding between my legs for all those years finally came in handy. Other things I told myself were to never hit a girl, but these were desperate times.

Skillfully dodging all of Peefy's attempts to break my face (he took his time moving a tiny trampoline around. Seeing we moved away from the bed, he couldn't reach past my shins. Every once in a while I'd see him from the corner of my eye, squealing like the dwarf he is. Oddly enough he seemed to enjoy himself flying through the air, like a weightless elephant baby impressing the giraffes at a zoo.) I started to collect the blood from the wall inside my empty jar, which soon lost the empty meaning. With this blood I shall clone Peefy and create my own miniature army.

Strange, it must have been quite a while since I started my day dream. By now Peefy had gotten on top of a bed right in front of me. Even stranger was the height difference, or actually, the lack of one. I suppose it's not easy being a midget. Are those two mattresses on the bed? Ah well, at least we can look eachother in the eyes. The precision fascinated me, if only I had my measuring tape with me.. but those are in my other jeans. Wait, what am I thinking, no time for this.

I hopped onto the bed and smacked Peefy with a pillow. This must be how midgets fight, I told myself in comfort.

Not sure why, but Peefy seemed eager to tell me an anecdote. Pretending I was listening, my mind spaced out to a more interesting setting. Ahh, nothing beats the beaches of San Diego.

I gratefully accepted the fist-shaped figurine and could only assume this meant we were at peace once more.. or so he thought.

He held out his hand and I shook it with the bronze fist I was gifted.

Peefy: Well, I gotta go hit the bricks.
Future: Okay. You go show those bricks a lesson.

Nurse: Peefy!
Peefy: -drool- mssrhghh
Nurse: Peefy, our paths have drifted apart for the last time.

Noticing Peefy had turned into a bubbly pile of love and sweat, I realized my Groucho© mask was still on.

Future: Buenos días.
Peefy: You're not the nurse.
Future: No.
Peefy: You're not here to give me my medication?
Future: No, but I am here to ease your pain.
Peefy: Guess they couldn't save me, eh?
Future: No, but there's still a chance you could save me. I think we should team up - be partners.
Peefy: Oh, I would, but I could never be partners with someone who was so much more of a man than me.
Future: Oh, come on... I've seen your wife.

Silence entered the room, the sound of us not talking seemed forever.

I let out a deep sigh as I put my balloon down. I was sure he'd recognize me, the plastic surgery alone would have given it away. Thanks again Groucho©, fifth time he fell for it. By that I don't mean the disguise, the waterfall pouring from his forehead suggested.. other things.

As I cracked some nuts with my voice, to still my hunger, I went in a hot pursuit. The hot pur suit would surely fit my posture, I had been working out after all.

There he was, about to enter room 102. The Laundry Room.

Rain. The sound of wet tires screeching across the corner down the street alarmed me. His arrival wasn't completely unexpected, but this soon? Surely he had conceived more of his ridiculous similes. I don't blame him, being attacked by a bear at the age of ten would drive the strongest men insane. The moment he'd step through that door his life would change forever. His death had been delayed for too long.

The car stopped. A silhouette, trench coat, trilby. This was it. Arming myself with nothing more than a single balloon and the remainder of my courage, I hid behind the desk.

It's been three weeks since I woke up in a hospital. There was a blindspot in my head, a shrapnel-shaped hole where the answers should be. Call it denial.

I lied to myself that it was over. It wasn't over.