Holy fuck

John's talking to someone in the kitchen. I don't know who, but they're about eight feet tall, whoever they are. I swear to god they came right through the wall. They're not like Jeeves, or the fridge, or the car. They're not replicas of anything.

Also-

It sounded like John was selling them something.

God, what a mess

Just got back from April's place. What a mess. I caught her having sex with the milkman. I didn't even know there were still milkmen. Old fashioned part of town, I guess. I tried to talk to her about it once she had her shirt back on, and she tried to back over me with his car. I think it's over. Fuck. I'm going to go get a drink.

New Car

John got a car today. Well, sort of. It showed up in front of our place this morning. It must've showed up while I was sleeping. I've got to set up cameras or something. It's a nice car. Kind of generic, actually. At first I thought it was a Lotus Elise, but it didn't quite have that swoop to the body. There was some Aston Martin in it too, and possibly a little bit of Cadillac around the hood. It looked like the kind of nice car someone who didn't know anything about cars would wish for. The hood ornament was just a silver blob.

I was kinda pissed about it, because it meant we had to pay for a parking spot in the garage across the street, which John would probably try to make us split. When I raised this perfectly reasonable objection, John stopped attempting to shotgun a ginger-ale with a safety pin (with about the success you'd expect), and went outside to show me the car. Now, at this point, I had pretty much figured out that the car was in the same vein as the fridge and Jeeves. I wasn't sure exactly what that vein was, but I could see a pattern there.

Still, the car had a lot of little quirks that I wasn't expecting when I took a closer look. For starters, it had no steering wheel. There was no key hole, no shifter, no pedals. The rough shape of the thing was there, with some vague bulges to indicate where these things would normally be, with an indentation across the top filled with three dials that displayed speed, miles, and (for some reason) altitude. Gas was not mentioned. Also, there were no back seats. There was a space for them, but it was empty, and connected directly to the trunk. The seats reclined all the way back. Also, they weren't quite normal car seats. They were more like easy chairs with seatbelts. They had arm rests.

Now, you'll probably be asking how the hell John drove a car without a steering column or gas. And the answer is that he didn't. Frankly, I don't think the man had a driver's license. He just got in, mashed his palm into the dash, and the car moved. I think it was mostly autonomous. He drove it around the block a couple of times, and I have to admit I was impressed with the way it handled. It made no noise, didn't shake. I barely felt the acceleration, didn't feel a single bump or pothole in the road. It moved beautifully. I remember asking him if it was electric, and he looked blank, and shrugged.

He let me out in front of the apartment building, and then drove it to the garage. I recall noticing that the tires didn't spin. It moved across the busy intersection, totally ignoring oncoming traffic. It just sort of slinked through the gaps between cars.

A little later, I went out for a smoke, and I noticed the car parked in the alley behind the apartment building. I wasn't really surprised to see that there was nobody inside. Also, it was eating out of the garbage. Honestly, that would have shocked me a lot more before I caught the fridge with it's proboscis down the drain (yes, it was coming out of the freezer compartment; no, I haven't tried to open it). When I caught it, it withdrew its mouthpieces, closed it's grill, and backed a few feet down the alley to stare at me. At this point I realized that, although it's headlights glowed, they did not actually emit enough light to illuminate anything. The car faced me for a few seconds, as though examining me, then slowly backed out of the alley and drove away. I finished my cigarette, ground it out under my foot, and went back inside.

There's a lot I'm willing to put up with for a cheap apartment. The mess: fine. The bizarre and disturbing personal habits: Fine. Supernaturally-equipped and semi-animate furniture, servants, and possessions? Fine. It's none of my business. John's covering the garage under his own pay, anyway.

Jeeves update

He caught the squirrel.

More of Jeeves

Spent about an hour today watching Jeeves chase a squirrel around the park behind the apartment building. Honestly, that guy freaks me the fuck out. I caught him eating a rat in my room, and I tried to throw him out. He left when I told him to, but he was back a half an hour later to get the underwear I left on the floor. Also, he doesn't wash anything, but they always turn up clean and a bit damp. I'm trying not to think too hard about that one.

I tried to lock him out, after that, but he found they key I lost and let himself back in. He seems to obey simple instructions. Maybe I can lock him in the trunk of my car and leave him in Texas somewhere. I wonder if customs would interfere if I tried to have him shipped to Africa or something. Yeah, probably. And he might just walk back. I've never seen him breathe, so he could probably just walk back across the ocean floor.

Plus, the housekeeping is honestly pretty nice.

Just to explain:

I just realized that I haven't actually explained what the basic situation is around here. Given all the weird stuff that's been going on, I should probably explain things in case this gets preserved for posterity. Or evidence.

Anyway, here's the deal: I'll start with John. John is... well, he's got money, from somewhere. His mom's a senator or something. He's unemployed, kind of a slob, and he spends a lot of time dropping things out the window and trying to hit people walking by. He's pretty good at it. Still, he covers most of the rent. I don't know why he needed a room mate. He seems to have plenty of money. Lonely, I guess, but it's not like he talks to me all that much. I guess he just likes having some kind of human presence around the place. It'd cost me a hundred and fifty a month to live anywhere else, so I put up with it.

He's okay with women, I guess. He looks okay, and has some freaky metabolic thing going on so that, in spite of his awful diet, he isn't fat. I think he has a tapeworm. Actually, it could be that he's slowly dying of malnutrition, and the weight loss from his organ failure is temporary offsetting the weight gain from eating nothing but beer and junk food. He never stays with any of the girls for very long, though. He has an apathy that borders on the pathological, so that's not surprising.

I'm Ben, by the way. I work at a coffee shop on Ash and Birch. It's not a bad gig. Gives me plenty of time to myself. Doesn't pay that great, but it's a living. I have a girlfriend, named April. Things've been a little rough, lately, but I think we're over the worst of it.

John and I get along okay, I guess. Actually, we usually don't even talk, unless it's about what to watch on TV, or who ate the last marshmallow (John. Always John.) It's kind of like we're in one of those joyless, sexless marriages of convenience.

I think that's most of it. You already know about the fridge and stuff. I'm still seriously considering the possibility that John has sold his soul. If so, the devil got ripped off something fierce.

Asked John

I asked John about the new guy. He didn't even look up from his videogame. He just shrugged, and said that Jeeves would be helping out around the house from now on. I asked him what the hell the guy's problem was, and he just shrugged, and said he was foreign. I dunno, maybe they do things differently in France, but I think it's normal for most people to sleep. Oh, I didn't mention that? Jeeves doesn't sleep. He just stands in the corner and stares off into space. I nearly walked into him when I was getting up to get a sandwich last night. Also, I saw him eat a fly once.

Anyway, I don't think John pays him or anything, so I guess he's a slave or something. Yep. I am now a slave owner. Fuckin' wonderful.

Needless to say, I'm not going to bring April back to the house anymore. Not that I did it that much before, what with John and all that, but 'messy room-mate' is a much easier explanation than 'slave labor.'