Corporate Red Tape

...Can I point out the irony of Halloween in what could be considered a sanctuary for the strange, spooky, and somewhat deranged seeming sort of normal? Because it really fucking is. Yes, yes, I get it. It's like Christmas for us. Even Jack is in a better mood around this time of yeah, always loved the macabre and the supernatural, that one. I'm currently nursing a hangover from what I thought was light beer... No, I'm purely fucking sure I was slipped a tasty mix of moonshine and fucking pumpkin spice because there is no way that shit I was given was under 5%. Did I get slipped an Armageddon while I wasn't paying attention? Sure, I'm more.. amicable, around this time of year. Sort of like a genial happy soul is on any other given day, even if smiling makes me look like a psychopath. We had a weird sort of block party and trick or treat thing.. They call it trunk or treat in the real world, sort of one of those alternatives to kids going around to doorst

Well... I can't remember shit all from yesterday... Even if I'm happy...it's sort of dulled by the fucking pounding in my head. Who the holy hell let me start drinking again? I found five bottles stacked nicely by my trash can, a cold fucking ice bag on my head, and I had a blanket draped over me. Last thing I remember was downing a few older vintages of whiskey I had neglected... After that, it was fuzzy. I think I had one of my Jack dreams, you know? Where she comes back to Sanctuary and finally handles all of the shit, and breaks me out of my depression. Except it wasn't a fucking dream. I woke up and there she was, passed the fuck out on the couch. My couch, which I also face fucking first in, reminding myself why I stopped drinking in the first place. I mean, I call it my couch, since it's in my office... It's Jack's. Sort of. Well, our couch. Usually when she's bored, she slips in, hands me a drink, and just passes out. Been a while sin

(Foreword: Good evening,  readers and Rabbits. As you can clearly tell, this isn't Tag writing his account of our first meeting after I came back to Sanctuary. I would have liked to have written it together with him, but seeing as he's a bit indisposed right now, I'll be taking over his blog for a bit. Hope you enjoy the ride, kids.)  Jack wearily climbed the steps to her once home, eyeing myriad Rabbits happily scurrying by in their haste to.. something. She had lost track of the latest accomplishments, woes, and assignments of her people in the last six months. She had been over the hills and far away: chasing seemingly impossible goals, fighting death, and attempting to survive her own fatalistic nature for so long, the small details of the day to day lives of her friends slipping between her fingers like water. Pushing the heavy red oak door open, she slipped inside quietly. Making no attempt to be seen or unseen. A few passerby she had known more intimately

Depression sucks when you're only really known for being an angry psychopath. Or... tend to be expected to play one at all odd hours of the day. Even psychopaths get down in the dumps.Or sleep enough to try to forget their problems. I'm down. I miss my best friend. She'd give me so much shit for even writing this without trying to call her first. Yes, Jack, I get it,  you're clearly out doing something important and clearing your head, but I miss the hell out of you and the other rabbits are talking... Seems like she's busy, I'll probably hear something from her in the comments. But look, I'm a grumpy old man, I miss my grumpy ass bitch of a best friend, I miss our grumpy ass talks, our grumpy ass jabs, and even her grumpy ass face. I'm sitting in the dark corner of my office, a cup of coffee in hand, and typing this out so it can finally leave my fucking head and I might be able to sleep tonight. You ever feel like something is off? I kn

You know, I always feel like there's some part of me that feels like it's missing. You ever heard of planarians? Type of salt/freshwater little wormy fucks that have an ass, a mouth, and a nervous system. Little bastards tend to be associated with parasitism, and just swim around looking mostly harmless, but unsettling at the back of most peoples minds. Funny thing about them is that you can cut them apart and they always seem to come back. One cut makes Two. Two makes four. Four Makes Eight. Both the same creature yet two totally separate entities.  Funny, how familiar that seems to most people. I seem to forget that it's so funny, but that was part of who I was way back when. I drink to forget but I always remember. Except now the booze is replaced by caffeine and I remember way too much. And my hands keep shaking as I type this, vicious fucking cycle. Remind you of anyone in particular? So, heeding my friend's advice, there are three major players in this l

Look, I've been acting weird lately. Been through a lot of shit in the past... week? Month? Months. It's been months. Haven't been feeling my old, ornery self. Had to deal with a lot of one sided, ill informed communication. Conceptually, the worst day of my life up to this point, no hyperbole fucking necessary. Try getting twenty phone calls in a row without time to even take a shit in the middle of it. That was my day, and honestly, fuck anyone who says they can handle it. Look, I'm the fucking number two of Sanctuary and I nearly blew a fucking gasket. I was so mad that people around me nearly ended up dead. Which is saying something, since I consider myself considerably mellowed out over the years. Definitely would have pissed Jack off, so.. Had to fold into myself a little before that fucking geyser erupted. Softened up a bit outwardly... Less yelling, more like I swallowed an entire jar of body glitter and chased it with a jar of Elmer's paste. Compl

Have you heard? ... Okay, I know what you're thinking. Don Bluth, 1997. Would kill to get tickets to the musical. Tag, what the fuck are you doing, man? My response? I like watching movies in my downtime. Fuck right off. I barely sleep and stick my nose in paperwork. The fuck do you want from me? I like to intersperse my media experiences with happier anecdotes. What do I look like, some sort of fucking nutcase? Point is, certain events are piling up about a certain blue haired... psychopath? Sociopath? Jack. I'm talking about Jack. The person who I affectionately refer to as my best friend, and they're causing some stir around the office. And in Sanctuary. And occasionally when I close my eyes, my fucking dreams! Including a fucking infiltrator. Who.. didn't do anything except give me a cup of coffee and a note.  Or set off any of the Rabbits running the security office. Seemed like a possibly kind and simply put... well mannered spy. The fuck is goin

Or whatever equivalent sort of bullshit you'd call it. Listen, I have a job to do, and while I don't exactly do it at a regular pace, I'd like to not hear fucking Slow Ride, Don't Fear the Reaper, and any other song that seems to just be mocking me right now. Fucking issues all the time lately. First, a busted laptop. Second, shitty Wi-Fi. I get it, it's magical and fully paid for, but I'm currently trying to offload so much data on to our personal servers. It'd be nice to not be stuck at a loading screen with a blue circle buffering at about 1% every ten seconds. And third, most of all,  this website has been fucking with me. Not letting me change fonts, highlighting everything in red. Even my writing is off, sounds like it's been fucking covered in krazy glue and glitter. It happens here or there, maybe some mistranslated wording, or even expressions. I sound.. nice. Even fucking cheery. I said "Thank you very much" to one of our

Fucking.. just.. I hate everything right now. Ugh, ignore me, I'm trying out this new sort of thing, a cold turkey cleanse to break my current dependency. If it's one thing or another, I'm intentionally depriving myself of this shit so maybe actual blood flows in my veins instead of liquid caffeine. I sound like I'm in withdrawal. Honestly,  the booze wasn't the issue either. It was the hangover that got to me, and the coffee that kept me up to keep me from falling asleep at my desk. Usually a certain blue haired girl kept me up, but she's currently away on business. Damn it Jack, I saw your comment on my last post. Don't call me out like that, all the way wherever you are... You bitch. Quit making me express myself about this. Listen. Or read.. whatever the fuck you're doing with this thing. I'm Jack's... boss? Bodyguard? Best friend? I don't know, some mix of all three plus the guy that tries to make sure she eats and properly

Jack being gone. My paperwork always having coffee rings on it. That lack of an incessant grind on my mind that comes with having to pick up around the world's messiest subordinate. I'm a Shadow. It's not my job to intervene unless ordered, or if I fucking felt like it. Usually I fucking felt like it. Get off my back. She's a grown woman. In a way, it felt like a vacation. Another thing I hate. Vacations. There's so much to not do in Underland, especially when you're supposed to be the Number 2 on high seat and can't actually go out on missions with the Rabbits. When it's actually normal around here for a change. As normal as a mysterious magically protected sanctuary protected by an elder council of god knows how many high table eldritch creatures gets anyway. How nothing smells like lavender and sage anymore. Usually that stuffs gets to creatures like me. Not having it around doesn't feel right. How I somehow miss being kicked in

Loud shuffling. Clatter of closet doors. Drawers rustling. It’s breaking my concentration. Over.. Whatever the hell I’m signing at my desk. It looks like it’s requisition forms. Or some shit. I don’t know. I’m trying to ignore that fucking incessant noise. It’s Jack, I’m pretty sure. Rummaging around her room like she has been for the past few hours. And then there it was, a hard thump on my door. Followed by several furious raps.  And then a voice. Jack’s. Except it wasn’t her usual viciously dour tone coming through the hard-wooden frame.  “Tag. Open the door. It’s… important.” she stated, more matter of factly. I growled, grumbled, and got up to open the door. There she was. Except… well..  The conversation was not what I expected. And she looked tired…  Clothes bedraggled, red cheeks, circles under her eyes.  “Listen. I need it back.” “Need what?” I replied back.   “My mask, you bastard. Where did you put my mirrored mask?” Her ol