(random expletives)

[railenthe]

I just got home for the first time in several months. The fact is, I needed to pick up one of my several pairs of replacement headphones so that I could work on some choreography that's been bugging at my mind for about three weeks now, and I needed an algebra text so that I could actually make some sense of what was being taught (although I'm doing better than I was with it last semester, go figure). It's taken this long to get our hands on a key to the place again, so we get the key and I go in to get this stuff, with my dad.

We have a joint reaction of *random expletives* and ranting.

The house seems to have been ransacked, with things in the wrong places. It almost looks as though someone made a less than half-assed attempt at cleaning things up before they left. The kitchen table is littered with cleaning products and a very large bottle of Listerine (which I cannot explain for the life of me). There are wires about the entire area.

The front room greets us with the revelation of a missing satellite receiver, and a ton of wires for a PS2 that doesn't seem to be present at the time of our arrival. The television--it's not the same unit as we had when last we got in here. There's some kind of vague box on the floor with a ton of wires. There are surround sound speakers at random intervals in the room, and they don't seem to be connected to anything, either.

We move on to one of the bedrooms. There are no bedclothes, the furniture is in random disarray, and we can't really see what's going on. Oddly enough, it's the most organized area in the entire room.

We lift the door back onto its frame to check my room...

Holy fuck. The mattresses are not there. The box springs are, but the mattresses are not. Wires, various assorted items, and other junk is littered over the floor. Overturned boxes, a vanity that should have been in the bathroom and not in the middle of my floor. There are random bedclothes scattered about, and--fuck, where the hell's my desk?! The desk is gone, and the night table is cluttered. My shrine statues, incense burner, and candles and black cloth are not there, and instead there is a knife with a black blade and--I check closer--yes, that is what I think it is, scattered about greenly all over the painted surface. There is an ID revealing just who it was just laying about the mess.

Just when I think I can't outdo myself with the cursing, I've just made the wallpaper curl up with the sheer volume of cursing that I've done. I mean, what the FUCK is going on here, when you can't leave your house and come back to find it the way you left it?!

The real kicker was following the wires downstairs, finding my mattresses scattered about, and a very new-looking Dell computer on my stripped desk. On the way to that room, I noticed that the library of research that I'd amassed over the course of sophomore and junior year of high school is gone completely. The shelves are gone, and the suitcase that held the remainder of what would not fit on the shelves is gone as well.

I spend another fifteen minutes doing nothing but cursing before I hurry up, get my things--minus the algebra book that I cannot find in the jumble--and catch the late bus to get on campus.

The next time I see that guy, he's getting a dose of the wrong end of a sword. Of course, that's providing that I still have 'em.