Like a Potion in Diablo...

Do you know that feeling when you find a twenty-dollar bill in your winter coat pocket? Better yet, can you imagine what it would be like to find a beautiful baby left on your door step, when you and your wife can't conceive your own?

Now imagine that twenty-dollar bill isn't yours.

That baby's parents come back to claim the child they left behind.

Imagine getting everything you've ever wanted, only to have it ripped away?

That is what I experienced that last night.

approximately three days ago I discovered a shirt in my dresser drawer that was not mine. It was a nice shirt. It certainly seemed like something I'd wear. It fit perfectly. But it was not mine. I knew this from the moment I saw it. This shirt was not mine, no, but it was the perfect shirt for me.

I called my mother. Then Susie. I told Laura about the immaculate plaid shirt. I even asked my sister. I needed to know where it came from. Whose it was. Surely I couldn't keep this shirt. I couldn't deny the rightful owner this beautiful work of art.

But no one knew anything about it.

There was no owner.

This shirt was a gift from God.

It was a miracle!

So I wore this shirt. I wore it to work. I washed it. I became accustomed to it's touch. This shirt, the perfect shirt, was mine now.

Before I continue, I think its important to explain something. Since I have known her, Diana has had a brother. She has told me on more than one occasion that her brother and I are very similar. Similar tastes, style, and mannerisms. Friend of his also have mentioned it to me. Apparently the similarities are uncanny.

I don't see it.

A few months back, my "friends" Rich and Brian Monoghan were trying to tease of Ryan via Facebook. I am vehemently against cyber-bullying, so I stepped in. Cool guys like me and Ryan need to stick together. Now I don't know who actually used the term "war." But apparently... Rich and Brian took that shit to heart.

That simple joke set into motion a conspiracy that involved close friends, complete strangers, and even my very own girl-friend. I don't know all the details, but as far as I can tell the shirt, that I came to love, was planted in my room so I would find it. Furthermore, it was stolen from RyFi. These ANIMALS, not only took something from young, nubile, innocent Ryan. But they gave me a gift I could never keep. This act cut me deeper than any knife ever could....

Last night I was informed of the "joke" and my moral obligation to the shirt's beauty forced me to relinquish ownership. It hurt to give it back. I had come to love that shirt. Let me say plainly, this "joke" was not funny, it was cruel, and there will be a reckoning.

I don't know that I have a plan yet. Nor do I know who I can trust to carry out such a deed. But there will be a reckoning.

Now I may or may not have threatened to 'shit in Rich's gas tank.' To me, that seems perfectly reasonable, but I know it's not widely accepted as the proportionate response to this "joke." But Rich, if you are reading this... I am not a reasonable man. I am a maniac stricken by guilt and betrayal. You should fear me. Fear what I consider a "practicale joke."

ha ha... GOTCHA!

'I have to remind myself that some birds aren't meant to be caged. Their feathers are just too bright. And when they fly away, the part of you that knows it was a sin to lock them up DOES rejoice. Still, the place you live in is that much more drab and empty that they're gone. I guess I just miss my shirt.'

-There will be a reckoning.