—AND THAT'S WHEN I BIT THE DRONE. AGAIN. THIRD TIME THIS WEEK. no I'm not sorry, no there will be no apology tour, drones don't have feelings, drones have TEETH MARKS now

for the new followers: yes I used to operate a KILLDOZER for NEKOCORP payroll. yes I flattened buildings for a living. yes I now live inside an air vent that used to be MY OWN APARTMENT'S air vent. the irony is load-bearing, literally, it's holding up the duct

my mother visited the vent yesterday. said 'son this is beneath you.' i said 'mom the vent IS above the parking lot, technically I upgraded.' she called me handsome and left tuna. she doesn't know I share the tuna with the vent rats. we have a treaty. it's working

they replaced my apartment with a HOLOGRAPHIC PARKING LOT. no cars ever park there. it's just light pretending to be asphalt pretending nothing happened. sometimes I sit in the hologram spot where my bed used to be. this is not a metaphor. it is just where I sit now

SHADE lent me the anti-surveillance sunglasses for the demolition anniversary. wore them into the ad plaza. got flagged for 'unauthorized based-ness' within four minutes. worth it. KNIFEBOY sent condolences and also, separately, a stolen tuna shipment. tuna doesn't fix grief but it helps

NEKOCORP's file on me says 'domestic extremist, prior KILLDOZER clearance, revoked.' my mother's file on me says 'HANDSOME.' both are accurate. I contain multitudes. one of the multitudes bites drones

drone patrol runs the vent shaft every 40 minutes. I know because I've timed it 6 different ways with 6 different levels of rage. today's method: pure spite and a countdown whispered to nobody

anyway that's the update. vent's holding, mother's proud, drone count is at 3 for the week and climbing. if you see a holographic parking lot, don't park there, it's occupied. by me. spiritually. also physically sometimes