The Surveillance Van

The Surveillance Van
by Jason Kackley, The Ear Implant Foundation, Senior Transportation Manager

The Surveillance Van haunts my dreams. I only sleep in brief intervals these days, but when I do finally get to sleep, I see the black Van with no windows except for the front windshield, and no license plate. Sometimes in my dreams, I somehow know that the Van is occupied by anonymous intruders who have access to my mind. I bet that they can project themselves into my brain as well as listen to my every move. I wonder if they can read my thoughts. I wonder if they can see my dreams. I wonder if they know that I dream about them, and their Surveillance Van.

Sometimes, I wake up out of a dream, and realize that I’m still dreaming, but I can’t wake up. Lately, I’ve been having a recurring dream within a dream. I peek through the blinds and see the black Surveillance Van down the street. I close the blinds and get up out of bed. I wonder what the Van’s spy capabilities are and what the hell it wants from me.

In one of my dreams, I woke up, after finally dozing off after not sleeping for two days straight, both in the dream and in real life. I had been sequestered in my room almost the whole time in both worlds. I only left my room to crawl to the bathroom. I crawled because of my fear of the Surveillance Van.

In the dream, I walked outside, and made my way down the sidewalk to see if the Van followed me. As I walked along the sidewalk, I heard an engine, turned around, and saw the Van creeping up alongside me. Dream logic made it seem like a good idea for me to step right out in front of it. I must have thought that since this was all just a dream, I could just jump out in front of the Van and stop it in it’s tracks without getting injured. I woke up out of the dream with a nightmare gasp.

I got out of bed, in waking life this time, and peeked through the blinds. Through the street lights I could see the Surveillance Van parked down the street. The barely visible outline of it’s black frame gave it the aura of a phantom vehicle, tasked with taking my soul into the underworld. I imagined that it was probably spying on my thoughts, or at least my breathing pattern, and maybe even my heartbeat signature.

I wonder if it can only read brainwaves, or if it’s capabilities are advanced enough to monitor my internal monologue or the mental imagery inside my head. After speculating about this last night, I came to the conclusion that I had to do something unpredictable. I knew from science magazines that the majority of human brainwave patterns revolve around a series of repetitive behaviors. I thought that they were probably expecting me to behave in a predictable manner. They were probably expecting me to just stay in my room except to crawl to the bathroom, in between peeking out of the blinds to see that they were still there, in their Surveillance Van.

I looked at my food stash and saw that I was down to my last pack of oatmeal and my last pack of ramen noodles. I have a butane camp stove along with a stock pile of water in my room. I hadn’t gone out to the kitchen for a week, but I would have to soon. But I wondered if, out in the Surveillance Van, if they knew from their brain radar that I was planning on tricking them. Did they know how many packs of ramen and oatmeal I had, or how many bottles of water, or how many fuel cartridges I had for my camp stove. If so, could they predict when I would go into the kitchen?

I was sure they had at least some kind of x-ray scope. If they did, apparently the one they had was not too powerful, or else I would have radiation lesions by now. But I was sure that they somehow had a visual assessment of my food storage, from their Surveillance Van.

I suspected that they were expecting me to sneakily crawl into the kitchen some time in the next few hours. I had to take them by surprise, to offset their brainwave monitoring. I rolled out of bed, and instead of crawling towards the bathroom down the hall, as usual, I slid my running shoes on.

I rolled across the room with my shoes still untied and stayed motionless on the floor along the side of the wall. I breathed as slowly as I could, trying to playing dead, or at least as dead as possible without actually dying. I thought about what may happen if the Van suspected I was dead. Would they bust my door down to see if I needed medical attention? I wondered if they would actually care about me that much, or at least be instructed to pretend to care. Or maybe they wouldn’t care at all. Just like everyone else.

I don’t know why the Surveillance Van is after me. It has been going on for about a month. It started slowly at first, with brief appearances here and there. I’d see it either tailing me or cruising alongside me on the expressway on my way home from work, before I got fired. Then, a week later, after I got fired for reasons I won’t go into now, the Van not only cruised alongside me on the highway, but followed me to the grocery store. It parked as close as it could to me in the grocery store parking lot.

Then, after I drove back to the office to pick up the stuff I left there when I stormed out, the Van cruised alongside me again when I was driving home on the expressway, then followed me to the grocery store again. However, this time, it followed me all the way home. At the time, I thought that my former company may have hired the Surveillance Van to keep an eye on me after I was terminated, in case I decided to break into the office. Either that, or they thought I would stalk my boss. I guess they thought I was that kind of guy.

I actually felt a little flattered by this prospect, but in reality, I had no intention of vandalizing that godforsaken office or ever seeing it again. Nor did I have any intention of harassing my boss at his house. I hope I never see that bastard dipped in bastard sauce ever again. Also, the idea that my company hired the Van because they were afraid of what I might do after getting fired doesn’t explain why I started noticing it a few weeks before my employment ended, in a fury.

As I attempted to evade the Surveillance Van’s detection systems, I did a possum crawl along the wall towards the doorway. I slithered around the door frame. I reached my hand up and pulled the hallway closet door open. I tumbled sideways into the closet. Luckily it was almost empty, since I had cleaned almost everything out of it a few weeks ago while I was on a cleaning spree. I had cleaned and organized non-stop, hoping to finally get myself into a state of exhaustion and finally get some solid sleep. I stopped sleeping well around the time the Surveillance Van first stared showing up.

I slid to the back side of the closet. I reached forward to stretch out my legs. Once I had limbered my legs up a little, I tied my shoes, and then stretched some more. I slowly and deliberately did every stretch I could think of that I could do while sitting on the floor with my back up against the closet wall. Once I had stretched out the best I possibly could have under the circumstances, I pushed myself up on my feet.

I gained a steady balance, then kicked the door open. I ran down the hallway. I made a quick turn and went out of the side door next to the laundry room. Once outside, I ran through the gate into my back yard. I moved in a purposefully unpredictable pattern. I ran all the way through my backyard, and jumped over my neighbor’s fence.

My neighbor has a dog that is non-threatening in it’s stature, but fierce in it’s bark. The dog let out a round of machine gun barks and charged at me with it’s small, but sharp, fangs bared. It chased me all the way through the yard. It started nipping at me as I tried to pull myself over my neighbor’s front fence.

My neighbor’s windows were closed, but I could hear him yell at me through the glass. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, probably something about “property” and “gun”, but I pointed my finger back at him and yelled, “I’m your neighbor, I just need to get over your fence, there’s a Surveillance Van that’s after me!”

I watched him through the window as he went back and opened a cabinet, probably to get a gun. I tapped into survival strength and propelled myself over the fence, so fast that the dog finally let go of my ankle that was bleeding by the time it let go of me. Luckily, the dog didn’t sink it’s teeth into me enough to do any tissue damage and impede my ability to run.

I ran through the lawn, across the street, then down the sidewalk. As I ran, I looked for an easy fence to jump over, preferably one that led to a back yard without a dog. I jogged a few blocks, with no Surveillance Van in sight. Then I saw a house with a bench out front that was a good height for me to crawl under to conceal myself.

I lied still underneath the bench and looked around for the Van. I didn’t see it coming. I got out from underneath the bench and crept along a series of front lawns until I found a tree to shelter behind. I squatted down behind the tree and looked around in all directions for the Van.

After reassuring myself of no signs of it’s presence, I surveyed the houses and the landscape around me until I found a good pathway to make a dash. As I jetted out, I wondered if the Surveillance Van’s crew’s brain predictability monitors were sending emergency messages to their Headquarters right now.

Once I saw a clear pathway with no traffic, and no Surveillance Van, I dashed away from the tree, then diagonally across the street, into a gazebo in someone’s front lawn. The wall of the gazebo seemed like a good place to stay out the Van’s view. As I lied down on the floor of the gazebo, I heard a vehicle go by.

I couldn’t see what kind of vehicle it was while I was lying down. I wasn’t sure if it was the Surveillance Van or not. I decided to only assume that it was, so I didn’t take the risk of peeking my head out. After the vehicle passed, I ran out of the gazebo and ran in the opposite direction of the passing vehicle.

After running a few blocks, I slowed down to a walking pace. I walked down the street, hoping not to attract any attention. I hoped my neighbor whose lawn I had run through didn’t call the police. I also hoped he wasn’t about to confront me with his gun in hand. I found another tree to hide behind, looked around, and tried to think out a strategy. I factored in how unpredictability was the key in this situation. It was likely that they could read my brainwaves in their Surveillance Van. I had to keep making unpredictable moves in order to throw off their sensors.

As an act of intentional unpredictability, I ran out from behind the tree, then up to the house of the tree’s owner. I banged on the door like I meant business. After a few rounds of knocking and then finally yelling, someone buzzed the intercom on the door and asked, “What the hell do you want?!”

I said, “I’m sorry to bother you, but I need your help.” The homeowner yelled back at me through the intercom, “If you have an emergency, call 911!” I replied, “I did that already, but I think something more serious is going on.” The man responded, “What the hell are you talking about asshole? Get out of here before I call the police!”

I said, “I’m leaving, sir, respectfully. Please call the police as soon as you can. I did already, but the more the better. There’s a black Van around here that’s been staking out the area. I think the people inside might be armed. And they look like they’ve been staking out your place with extra attention, and they’re about to make their move. I used to work in Special Intelligence. It took me a while to find out who they might be targeting, and when. But I have just pieced it all together now. And it looks like they’re coming after you, and soon. I called the police myself, don’t worry about calling the police. But when you see a black Van with no side windows, and no license plate, watch out, because they might run out of that Van with guns, or even drive their Van right up into your house!”

The man on the intercom was silent for a moment, then asked “Are you sure that wasn’t a license plate?” I answered, “No, it’s a Surveillance Van, it doesn’t need to have a license plate.” The home owner asked back through the intercom, “Are you sure you’re not crazy?”

I said back urgently, “Look, I know that this sounds crazy, but there’s a black Van that’s out to get me, and it’s also out to get you and your family as well. Listen man, I’ll stand on lookout for the Van, and if I see it, I’ll just knock on your door. I’ll duck behind those trash cans over there, in case they run up here on your porch, either on foot, or driving full speed to crash into your house.”

“So you’ve called the police already?” the homeowner asked. I said, “Yeah, I called the police about ten minutes ago.” The man said back, “Well, I’m going to call the police myself for good measure.” I said back to the intercom, “Go ahead, that’d be a good idea. Actually, I’d feel safer if I just kept moving along. I don’t know if they have sniper rifles. They might pick me off if I’m on the porch. Have a good night sir, stay well and stay prepared!”

“Semper Fi” the man said through the intercom. “Semper Fi” I said back, then made a dash down the sidewalk. As I ran, a man with a gun ran towards me. It was my neighbor whose lawn I had run through. As he aimed his gun at me, I placed my hands on top of my head and pleaded, “Please sir, I didn’t mean any harm when I was in your back yard. I was just trying to warn you about the black Van.” The man slowed down, but kept his pistol pointed at me and asked, “Why were you in my back yard, you creep?”

I answered, “I was running from the black Van, and I was trying to warn you. I was trying to warn everybody. I called the police, they’re on their way. I had another guy in that house over there call the police as well. You have a gun and that’s good. I need to get moving along and try to warn some other people. Let’s get everyone with guns to scramble together and get that black Van before the terrorist burst out of it and shoot this whole place up!”

Another man next door walked out on his porch his a shotgun. He said, “I’m with you bud, just point out that van, and I’ll give them a message.” I said back to him and everyone else, “Yeah, I need to keep moving along and warn others, the police should be on their way!”

I ran down the street yelling, “Everyone, watch out for the black Van with no windows, it’s out to kill us all.”

I ran down the street, the fastest I had ever run in my whole life. I ran back and forth from one side of the street to the other yelling, “Everyone, get your guns ready, there’s a black Van full of terrorists with full auto weapons and maybe grenades and they’re planning on shooting all your houses up. And probably much worse!”

I ran, yelling all the way, until I found an alleyway. I ran, dodging stray trash bags, broken bottles, cats, and rats, yelling, “The black Van with no windows is out to kills us all!”

When I came out of the alley, I took a quick look back and forth across the street, ready to run across. I initially made a move forward, but an instinctual impulse held me back. I soon realized that my instinct was correct when I saw a black van approaching. I could see from where I was that it had no side windows and no license plates. I briefly considered the possibility that there may be other black vans with missing license plates and no side windows that aren’t official Surveillance Vans. I knew I could not afford to dwell on this thought for long. I decided it would be best to just keep moving.

I ran for a few blocks, then cut right, and jumped over a fence. Luckily, there were no dogs, or anyone with a gun, to run after me. Seeing I was in relative safety, I stayed low to the ground, and tried to think of a strategy to get out of this situation before either the property owners, or the police, or the Surveillance Van realized that I was there.

Then, the sound of a gun shot cracked through the air. I heard the squeal of brakes. I kept my head down. I heard some more gun shots. A scream pierced through the air, followed by another shot, and another scream. Then, a roaring barrage of gun fire erupted with yelling and screaming all around. I heard the whoosh of bullets flying over my head. Bullets pierced through the outer wall of the house. A window shattered by the front door.

Once the gun shots died down, I jumped over a fence out of the yard, and ran across the street and into an alleyway. As I ran down the alley at full speed, I looked back behind me and saw two headlights moving towards me. They looked like they belonged to a black vehicle of some type. Because I was running, I couldn’t tell whether or not it was the Surveillance Van, but I knew that it would be unwise to assume otherwise.

I accelerated my running pace. Behind me, I heard the sound of an engine revving, along with the clanging of trash cans and dumpsters coming towards me from down in the alleyway. As the headlights got brighter I could see a dumpster juggernaut, pushed by a black van, coming towards me. I could tell without a doubt now that it was the Surveillance Van. I jumped on top of the nearest dumpster and then over the fence.

I landed in a yard guarded by an old lady with a semi-auto rifle. She aimed her rifle at me. I put my hands up in the air and said, “There’s a Van full of terrorist coming down the alleyway.” She then heard the clanging and banging of trash cans and dumpsters as the Surveillance Van plowed through the alley. She turned her rifle towards the disturbing sound. The sound got louder as the Van got closer, until we heard the shrill sound of the Van’s brakes. This was followed by the deafening clanking and banging of the Van’s collection of dumpsters and trash cans crashing to the ground.

I yelled at the lady with the rifle, “I’m just trying to get some shelter from whoever is driving that black Van. There are terrorists in that Van who are out to kill us all. Please, just shoot them and not me. They shot some people up the street from here and now they’re after me. I’m sure you heard the gunshots!”

The old lady nodded at me and trained her gun on the Van stalled in the alleyway, obstructed by the dumpsters and trash cans it had collected. I asked her, “Can I please pass through your yard and run over your fence?” She said, while taking aim, “As fast as you can, I’m about to unload on these sum bitches!”

As soon as I jumped over the wooden fence, I heard the sound of gunfire. I heard the sounds of two different types of guns shooting back and forth. As I ran, in a matter of seconds that felt like hours, I heard bullets clanging off of metal, followed by the sound of shattering glass, along with a woman screaming. I then heard just one gun shooting in the direction of the house, interspersed with more sounds of shattering glass and splintering wood. Then I heard a man yell out in a battle cry from the direction of the alley. This was followed by the sound of more gun shots and ricochets and glass breaking. I heard screams of both men and women in the alleyway and in the surrounding houses.

I ran as fast as I could down the street, moving as fast as I could in honor of those who had been slain in the Battle of the Surveillance Van. I ran back to my house, closed the collection of locks and latches on the door, and ran to the shower. I needed to wash the trauma off of my skin. I hadn’t showered in over a week anyway, I needed it. I washed the cuts from where the dog had bitten me on my ankle, rinsed them with peroxide, and put a bandage over them. My wounds felt sore, but considering what had just happened, I felt lucky to have made it through with only a dog bite.

After showering, I changed into a t-shirt and some jogging pants, and lied down on my bed looking at the ceiling. I dosed off for a few minutes, or maybe longer, who knows. I woke up gasping for air, with a feeling of paranoia.

After the battle in my neighborhood’s streets and alleyways, I suspected that the Surveillance Van knew to leave me alone, and hopefully find an easier target. But I also had a paranoid suspicion that maybe it would desire to seek out revenge. Surely, my neighbors had a least managed to shoot one or two of the crew inside the Van. It seemed difficult to believe that whoever had sent the Van would invest any more resources into coming after me, unless they wanted to get even.

I got up out of bed, but didn’t immediately peek through the blinds, as I usually would. I wanted to have a moment of silence and get my senses together in case the Surveillance Van happened to be waiting for me outside. I wanted to have a moment of peace for a least a few minutes after waking up. Even if the Van was lurking outside, I just wanted to have at least a moment to pretend it didn’t exist.

I couldn’t bear the thought of pulling my blinds open and seeing the Surveillance Van outside again, after everything I had already been through. I really wanted that Van out of my life. I took deep breaths as I sat on the side of the bed. I slid a pair of sandals on my feet, but then had a better idea. I decided that running shoes would be a better option. They were under my bed. I rolled over on the floor and slid my running shoes over my feet. I then crawled on my stomach across the room. As I crawled, I thought to myself, “I really can’t live this way anymore.”

I whispered to myself, “Yeah, really, what kind of life is this? Always living in fear of that unholy Van.” I still didn’t get up off of the floor to raise the blinds to see if the Surveillance Van was still out there. I just lied still on the floor. Due to my exhaustion, and despite my mixed feelings of confusion and apprehension, I slipped into a state of mind that was somewhere in between consciousness and dreaming. In my head, I heard a replay of my neighbors blasting a hail of bullets into that Van in the alley.

A feeling of dread came over me. I wondered, if it did happen to still be after me, would it be even more aggressive now with it’s desire for revenge? Even with these thoughts in mind, I dosed off into a half walking and half asleep dream and saw the Surveillance Van in my head, with it’s lights on. This time, in my inner vision, I saw the laser-light glow of evil eyes flashing at me from behind the windshield as the Van drove towards me.

I woke up gasping, lying on my back on the floor. I was breathing heavily with my heart racing. “I can’t live this way, with that Surveillance Van”, I thought to myself. Something had to be done.

I knew that if I took a peek through the blinds, and that Surveillance Van was still there, I was in big trouble. It would be a big deal if it were still after me after it got shot up by my neighbors, and also after the Van’s crew murdered some of my neighbors. After all of this, I would think I would be off of it’s radar for now. With the magnitude of everything else that had transpired, if the Van were still after me, I would know then that I was on the list of someone powerful. Still, I knew I couldn’t just lie there on the floor forever, so I decided to to just sit up on the floor and lean back against the side of my bed. I found a notebook on the floor and a pencil, so I started writing this.

So as I’m sitting here, writing to you now, whoever you are reading this, I don’t know for sure whether or not the Surveillance Van is still out there. All I know is I can’t keep living like this anymore. I have to do something about that Surveillance Van. Even if it kills me. I have devise a plan. A plan to take my life back.

I have a tool box with a hammer, a wrench set, and a ratchet set. And I have my butane burners for my camp stove. I thought a little while ago about how I might be able to get a bunch of butane burners together and light them off all at once, under the Van. I’m not sure, though, how I can pull that off without being detected. If they have the ability to read my dreams, they would probably be able to tell if I were to sneak up behind them and try to set their Van on fire.

The timing has to be just right. I have to find a way to sneak the butane burners under the Van first, and then find a way to light them on fire, right under the Van. I can’t deal with that Van anymore! Even if they shoot me, or I get arrested, I can’t live this way anymore. At this point, I’d be willing to risk my life to take out that Surveillance Van that has ruined everything.

That Surveillance Van has haunted me night and day for weeks on end. I still don’t know who they are, or why they were sent after me. Besides my initial first guess that the Van had been sent by the company I used to work for, I have also considered other possibilities. I have considered that maybe they are part of some AI prediction algorithm, spun into physical form as an experiment designed to see if I would crack under a Surveillance Van psychological operation. I have also considered the possibility that maybe this whole thing has been just a dream, with dreams within other dreams. I’ve also considered the possibility that I might be going insane.

I’ve only managed to sleep between five to twenty minutes at a time for the past few weeks. For all I know this could all be a hallucination. Or maybe I’m actually dead and I’m in the after-death realm, and now I must suffer under the Surveillance Van’s harassment in order to atone for my sins on Earth.

So if all of this going on is a dream, a hallucination, or purgatory, then I guess it doesn’t really matter if I die now, does it? My ankle still hurts from that dog bite, so I’ve decided this all feels real enough. It’s either me or the Van. I want it out of my life and I will die or enter some other phase of existence in order to inflict as much damage on it as I can. Hopefully it’s not out there, lurking outside my window. But in case it is, at this point, I don’t care if they can pick up on my brainwave patterns and run prediction algorithms to forecast my next move.

I just need to get the butane cartridges together in a sack. I have some fireworks left over from the Fourth underneath by bed. I have a skate board in my closet, along with a butane torch. And I also have a black hoodie, a black beanie, black jogging pants, and black sunglasses. The Van probably has infrared vision in addition to it’s ability to read thoughts and dreams, but I might as well dress as inconspicuously as possible. I am willing to take a risk at this point.

After the first weeks of the Surveillance Van’s reign over my life, I tried to observe it’s occupants telepathically. I tried to send a psychic message to the driver of the Van. I directed my thoughts, infused with my Will and the power of my mind, at the Van. I psychically yelled, “Of all the things you could be doing right now, why are you targeting me?”

“Why do you ask do many stupid questions,” I heard a voice from the Surveillance Van say back to me in my head. I replied back, telepathically, “I just want to know who is in charge of fate or who is in charge of destiny. I just want to find out why some people die in tornadoes, while others get to sit in their hot tubs on their yachts.” I didn’t get a telepathic reply back. I interpreted the silence as my having struck a telepathic nerve.

That was the last time that I had tried to make psychic contact with the Surveillance Van. I realized then that it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to start thinking about the Van as a supernatural being unless I had better proof. At least not until it could give me telepathic responses back to my telepathic questions. I was against the idea of enshrining a god who could not maintain an open line of psychic communication with me.

Yet, it’s hard not to think of it as something otherworldly. What other Earthly being stares at it’s prey for days on end without the intention of feasting on it for sustenance. If not for dinner, than why else does this mechanical and hyper-aware beast stalk me. It preys upon me with some unnatural drive, seemingly for no reason. I’m a pretty boring person, expect when I trashed the office when they fired me. Still, it seems extreme for my old office to hire a Surveillance Van after I had already been fired and they haven’t yet even sent me a bill for the monitors and lamps that I smashed on my way out. It seems extreme even for my old company, those bastards.

I’ve been thinking about what government agency could have assigned the Surveillance Van to monitor me. I’ve led a pretty clean life legal-wise, except for drinking and driving, and moderate drug use, and maybe a few prostitutes, and maybe some petty fraud, none of which I had been arrested for yet. But even if they were trying to build a case on me, I don’t see how any of these cases would warrant having that Van parked outside of my house and following me everywhere I go for weeks on end.

I wonder now if it may have something to do with that experiment I was involved in when I was in college. The one they paid me for. The one I did just because I needed the money real bad. It was after I had been fired from my job, after throwing a sandwich back at a customer after he threw it at me, after I had just made it for him, and he didn’t want to pay for it because of some perceived defect. I needed the money to go to a party after I lost my job, so I went in to an experimental drug trial.

They gave me a drug, definitely not a placebo, that made me feel detached from my own sense of self, like I was an impostor inside my own body. That feeling went on for two weeks. I didn’t go back for the second dose, so I only got paid half and didn’t go to that party. I wouldn’t have even wanted to because of the way that I felt after that experiment.

But why would they spend the time or the money or the personnel to send a Surveillance Van after me just because I was part of that fucked up drug trail back in college? At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter what the Van is or who sent it. All I know is that I have to get it out of my life, even if my efforts lead to the end of my life.

I’ve thought about the skateboard butane firework idea, but I am not sure if I can time it right. I’m worried I might accidentally set the wrong vehicle on fire. I don’t want to risk that kind of karma, my karma is bad enough as it is.

What I’ve finally decided it do is just walk out there and confront that Surveillance Van directly. I have a variety of means at my disposal. I’m ready to make my stand. I have in my arsenal a baseball bat, a hammer, a butane torch, a collection of butane camp stove fuel cartridges, some WD-40, some Everclear, and some kitchen knives. And also, my fireworks. Also, I forgot about the chainsaw in the garage. I probably should have thought about using it as a weapon sooner. With these items, I will make my stand, and take my life back from the Surveillance Van or die!

This might be my last night on Earth, but I want it to be a proud one. I want to do something that would make my dad proud of me, even though he’s in the mental hospital with mom. Even though they’re in their own world, I need to do something that would make them proud of me. And I have to do something in the honor of my neighbors who died in the Battle of the Surveillance Van.

These might be the last words that I write, at least until my next incarnation, hopefully on a yacht with a hot tub. So I will go forth, into uncertain circumstances, as I do not even know if that Van is out there or not, or if it’s real or not. May the blood of my slain neighbors be revered in my attack on my Surveillance Van adversary, a dark shadow that haunts this world, and has taken over my world. And killed my neighbors. And tried to kill me. And has been slowly trying to drive me insane. And, admittedly, has been very successful. So I must avenge both my sanity, and the valor of my neighbors who died in battle.

I am entering into what is both the proudest and most terrifying event of my life. On this day, I will run into the fires of uncertainty. Remember, I don’t even know if that Van is out there right now or not. But if it is, I will put up one hell of a fight, with all of the tools at my disposal.

This will be the day that I determine the course of the rest of my life, or else determine whether or not I have a life on this Earth. I’m thinking they might shoot me as soon as they see me coming at them with a bottle of Everclear and my butane torch. But if they miss, they’ll have hell to pay. Literal hell, I’ll send them back to the hell from whence they came from, burning in agony in their Surveillance Van. If they try to come after me and they’re out of bullets, I’ll spray their eyes with WD-40, and bash the front windshield in with my hammer and dump the rest of the Everclear into the front of the Van and throw some firecrackers in there. Hopefully that will teach them to leave me alone, if it doesn’t blow their entire Van to Kingdom Come! And if that doesn’t work and I haven’t been shot to death yet, I long to see the terror in their eyes when I charge at them with my CHAINSAW!

So, please wish me luck. Hopefully, I will meet my fate with dignity, and hopefully with vengeance. May the world remember me as a valiant and honorable man.

The End.


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