Journal Of Donald Cabrey, December 13th

Oh man, oh man, oh man, guess what happened yesterday.

Go on, guess.

Go on. I've got time.

I stopped a robbery! No kidding!

A little background first. Since my last journal entry I was wondering what to do with the watch. There’s just about two things you can blame for what I chose to do.

I called in sick at Abe’s and spent the weekend knocking together a costume in my garage. Not much you can do when you’re not a trillionaire playboy, but I settled for something I think I could work with.

Dark red shirt, black cargo pants, leather gloves, a domino mask and a grey handkerchief wrapped around the lower half of my face.

And off I went. In the day I’d walk around town without the mask. I’m not sure what I was supposed to be looking for, now that I think about it.

On the third day I found it. The building’s alarm rang so loud that I heard it from a block away. I wore my mask and slipped on the watch for the first time since Friday.

And man, I can’t begin to tell you how good that feels. It’s like someone sticks a jumper cable inside of you. All your senses are magnified tenfold, and you can feel every beat of your heart and the blood roaring in your ears, everything’s brighter.

I’m not even sure of the details. One minute I’m crashing through the windows, the next I’m leaning against a wall four blocks away, mask ripped off.

Also, I’ve noticed something interesting. I can probably get away with anything by telling my wife the truth.

“Where have you been? And what happened to your shirt?” Jane asked, her voice shrill with concern.

I looked down and saw the bullet holes. Uh-oh.

“Well, I, uh, got shot,” I replied, grinning sheepishly.

She sighed and walked out.

Note to self : Repair my shirt. Also, I’m thinking I should start using a tape recorder or something for my journals. My hand is getting cramped with all the writing.

The End

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