“All the Machines in the World are Ganging Up on Me!” by Richard F. Yates

Hasn’t been a good last few weeks for us at the Primitive Bunker—as far as breakdowns go. (That was a weird sentence, and I could fix it, but I’m tired of trying to fix things!) Pretty sure we’ve got gremlins (although not in the racist sense… I’m pretty sure there’s a xenophobic aspect to that creature. Look at those old Bugs Bunny cartoons or even the Joe Dante film, with the neighbor screaming about “foreign cars” and such—so let’s not say gremlins. Let’s say hobgoblins or pissed-off brownies…although then we have the whole “school girl” contingent crying foul… Guess we’ll go with hobgoblins—and hope the Spiderman fans can handle it!)

We’ve got hobgoblins!

The shipboard computer in our new car has been acting all buggy—a bunch of light bulbs have gone out—a pipe broke in a wall in the basement—the “s” key on the computer keyboard has been screwing with me lately—the ice-maker on the freezer has stopped working (first world problem, I suppose)—the wifi has been cutting out quite a bit—I lost (well SOMEBODY lost) one of the earbuds for my headphones—and now the damn washing machine has stopped working…

Might be time to give up on all this modern shit and find a cabin in the woods somewhere. If I just stop posting one of these days—and you don’t want to scare yourself thinking about what type of THING got me—you can assume that I’ve escaped from our civilized life and am living out my remaining days in woodland bliss. Yeah, just tell yourself THAT little story… (and they won’t come for YOU next!!!)

—Richard F. Yates

P.S. – Charlie Centipede says it might be a good idea to keep a weapon or two by your bed at night, and have a safe place to escape to if you see signs of THEM coming…

About richardfyates

Compulsive creator of the bizarre and absurd. (Artist, writer, poet, provocateur...)
This entry was posted in biography, broken stuff, humor, living off the grid, monsters and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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