Excerpt from Riley’s Diary:
I normally don’t write this shit, but sitting on a plane watching a smug little dwarf guzzle all the booze doesn’t leave me a whole lot else to do. The four of us are chasing down some intel we got from a woman who, yesterday, I’d have told you doesn’t exist. Sound crazy? It should. Ever since I started hanging around with these guys it’s been one crazy freak show after another.
This time, Jake chases some bird off into the forest and comes back with a story about some hot chick with under-boob and a funky name that sounds like some stuff from Shakespeare. But he claims she tells him we’re supposed to go look for the Boston Medium. So here’s what’s what. We chased down Bonnie’s killer. He disappeared into thin air. But not before we figured out he opened some kind of door, but not the type you can just see if you aren’t really looking for it. We pop through that door and Jake finds this chick. She tells us to find the Boston Medium. So we talk LT into some time off and head off to the East coast where there is this convention of wack jobs who think they can talk to the dead and read palms and shit.
We find this big fat chick who claims to be able to talk to the Medium. And wouldn’t you know it, the only thing the Medium can tell us is that we have to go talk to someone else. It’s just like one of those fucking video games I played growing up where you needed the key to open the door. But to get the key you had to do a favor for a guy who wanted a special jar. But to get the jar you needed a golden egg which you could only get if you first helped someone retrieve their fucking laundry which was stolen by a guy who hid the laundry basket in a cave guarded by a troll who would fall asleep if you could get him to drink a beer made by some dwarf halfway across the world.
See what I’m getting at here? Dwarfs with beer really piss me off. He could at least send a drink back here, the scheming little fucker!
Anyway, when we get into the town with this haunted old house, I guess we’re going to have to try out a seance or something. Figures that we’d go to a convention full of wackos and come back with some bullshit answer about putting the spirit of a dead chick to rest. At least I packed the EMF meter. I don’t know if these things even work. I guess we’ll find out. Hopefully, we’ll learn something more than just another name. I’m getting sick of running errands.
One weird thing I’ve noticed, when I close my eyes to try and get some sleep, I keep hearing this pounding, like someone is hammering.
This stuff is starting to get to me.