Green... UH... UH... Red - Journal 3 [Cont.]

[Previously on The Wonderfully Amazing Adventurous Journals of the Awesome Haman J. Palamanikikila] Micheal Jackson, dead, trail of blood, creep stalker dude, with gun, pointing at my face. That's it in a nutshell. But if that shell breaks?....

There he was. Looking at me. Staring deep into my eyes. For a moment, I thought he would propose his dying love for me. Then he took out a .45 automatic pistol. Or something. In a thick Russian accent, he exclaimed, "Geeve me ze documents." And I stared right back at him. And I whispered. "No."

"Give me the CD" I said.

And he whispered. "No."

It seems we have reached a dilemma. He wanted the imaginary documents, and I wanted that CD. Amazingly, nobody seemed to notice the gun in his hand. I scanned the environment, looking for something, anything, to get me an advantage. I saw nothing. well... Maybe like a butterfly. But that wouldn't help. Unless I flew on it's back out of the area... naw... that'd never work. Butterfly's can not eat pie.

So my plan was out of the picture.

His grip on the gun tightened. He was gonna pull the trigger. "OKAY I'LL GET YOU THE DOCUMENTS" I screamed.

An old man gazed at me. "What was that?!?!" He hollered.
"Nothin'!! Go away you old fart!" I hollered back. He left. Looking hurt.
Pfft like I cared.

"Very vell" he said. "Ze documents can be fond [found] in South America. Go. Go now. I geeve you zis Zee-Dee after you geeve me ze documents. Vonce in South America, track down a man named Kalama Gaklama, in Lima."

I don't know what he was up to, but until I track down Kalama Gaklama....


- The Wondrous Wonderfully Amazing Adventurous Journals of the Awesome Haman J. Palamanikikila.