Posted by Jeff on Wednesday, September 13, 2006 @ 07:00 AM
4:00 am - Hour 1:
My sentence began early this morning when the phone rang around 4am. Tracy's daughter had been up all night with "the fever" and she was taking her to see a physician trained in the art of healing. My anxiety and desperation grew at the thought of "the fever" spreading to our location. After several futile attemps to return to a state of dormancy I decided to rise and accomplish my usual mediocre morning tasks.
5:00 am - Hour 2:
Although the mini-warden has yet to rise from her bed, I suspect I have a full day ahead of me. Between breaking blocks, corralling ponies, and playing mayor to the little people, I doubt there will be time for much else. Though the sun has yet to bless us with its presence, I fear that it matters little as I will be trapped beneath the overly-extended thumb of the mini-warden.
6:00 am - Hour 3:
My ears have detected a stirring from within the mini-warden's quarters. I guess it's time to make peace with my surroundings and face my fears. A small voice beckons from within the room. The mini-warden is apparently awake and parched. Though I do not relish the task of footman, I've discovered that it does provide some assistance with the passing of time. The small voice grows heightened now, so I must leave you to attend to my duties. I hope to return again shortly. Hope... Perhaps with hope there is still a chance after all. I suspect the outcome will reveal itself in due time.
7:00 am - Hour 4:
I was ordered to retrieve a small container of liquid and bring it to the mini-warden, after which the noises from within the walls seemed to subside. My relief appears to be short-lived however, because the single voice has now been replaced by the cries and shouts of dozens of unidentified creatures. Since I am no longer in the warden's presence, I can only surmise that the liquid within the flask contained spirits of one sort or another and that the mini-warden is now enjoying the distilled fruits of my labor. Or perhaps, there is no warden, there is no flask, and the voices are merely a sign of my gradual emotional decline. I can hear elephant-like footsteps approaching so I know the warden is near. I must depart quickly now if I ever plan to return.
8:00 am - Hour 5:
Either through a stroke of good luck or based on my good behavior, I was afforded one phone call at the stroke of eight, which I used to despondently contact my wife of six years. She seemed to be unaware of my current predicament, as though my absolute sentence were merely child's play. To make matters worse, the warden kept interrupting with various nonsensical phrases like "Hi, Mommy" and "I go poo-poo". None of this made any sense to me and only seemed to result in praise from the other end of the line. I was utterly confused. Why was my wife, who claims to love me dearly, declaring her pride in response to the warden's babble? Was this merely a ploy to reduce my sentence by winning the warden's favor? Or was there something more sinister occuring before my eyes? My task for this hour: Determine why poo-poo results in praise.
9:00 am - Hour 6:
Preoccupied with my task from the previous hour, I failed to notice that the warden was once again on the move. In an effort to torture me further, I was forced to endure repeated video-based brain penetration in the form of a girl with strawberries. Despite the repetition and mundane content, this approach to "breaking me" had no effect. What they could not possibly know, is that I had already suffered through years of torture at the hands of a group known simply as "The Wiggles". After an undeterminable amount of time, but definitely less than an hour, I was allowed to head back to my cell for a few minutes to complete the daily log of events. Hear my voice. Spread the word if I do not return...
10:00 am - Hour 7:
The warden is apparently more savvy than her appearance would indicate for she has since moved from the fruit-girl marathon to a new approach using a small audio device that forces the shrill wailing of children's songs through a filter of static. The only clue as to the source of this device is that it used to belong to someone named Barbie. I will never admit it to the warden or her cronies, but this new approach is definitely taking its toll on my psyche. Let's hope they get tired of this new method soon or I just may crack to pieces and turn to dust.
11:00 am - Hour 8:
Mid-day is just around the corner but there are still more lessons to be learned. Thankfully, the aural agony ended shortly after my last update. Soon afterward, however, the mind games began. With unrelenting determination, the warden began to demand individual items from a pre-compiled list of provisions. Each time a demand was made, I did my best to meet it. But inevitably the item requested was not available. Any attempt to explain this to the warden only resulted in more demands. I began to realize that my efforts were in vain, for the warden had already made up her mind. This was her territory and she knew it. I was simply a pawn to be played. Perhaps if I could add something to the list when she wasn't looking...
12:00 pm - Hour 9:
With one-third of the day now behind me, I already grew weary of the cat and mouse games. Fortunately, for the serfs in this kingdom, every ruler has a weakness. And weaknesses are meant to be exploited in dire straits. In the case of the warden, food became the enemy. During the previous hour I began to see a pattern to the warden's requests and as the clock struck twelve a realization hit me like a giant, overstuffed Eeyore. Actually, it was just the warden again, in another attempt to "get my attention". Eeyore was simply an innocent bystander the warden used as leverage, or in this case, a hammer. The warden's hunger for sustenance was to be her failing it would seem. No sooner had the "pasketti" hit a nearby table, when the cycle of energy bursts and unattainable demands began to dwindle and fade. And as a creature that requires food, I could only assume that she would also require sleep at some point. My job for right now was simply to provide the meal... and wait.
1:00 pm - Hour 10:
Thankfully the warden nodded off shortly before 1pm and the rest of the crew are not proving terribly bothersome. I guess without their boss around, the other assorted felons are not much for antagonistic practices. I am truly puzzled as to how the warden has managed to maintain control of her people for this long. As a direct witness to the treatment of her minions through the eyes of Eyeore, I get the distinct impression that an insurrection is near. For the time being, however, I am being left to my own devices. And for that, I am thankful. Quickly now, for the two hour approaches. I must prepare for the inevitable awakening. I go now.
2:00 pm - Hour 11:
I'm afraid that the lessons learned from previous hours have made me somewhat skeptical of good fortune. The only sounds heard during the two hour were the small echoes of a nearby wall clock, tracking each second as it passed me by, unhindered by my foolish attempts to speed or slow its progress. Is this a sign of good things yet to come or a clear indication that things are about to get a whole lot worse? Optimist or peccimist? The paths we choose can often times outline our entire existence. If only I had more time to analyze the situation then perhaps... But no, time is of the essence now. No more waiting. It's time to move forward. But alas, I haven't the energy. The original 4am wake-up call and repeated abuse at the hands of the warden has diminished my strength. So for now, I too must rest. Besides, without the warden's constant abuse I'm finding that my logs are heading off into a tangential oblivion and no one needs to read that. Here's hoping that the three hour is more eventful, 'cause this entry is pretty pointless.
3:00 pm - Hour 12:
Good fortune has definitely smiled upon me this day. The local governess has arrived with great news. After hearing of my treatment, she has issued a declaration, forcing the warden's hand by demanding my immediate release from servitude. My role at this location will no doubt continue for many years to come, both as an overseer and house clerk. But I am to be supported by the governess herself in any future endeavors and my actions will be strictly voluntary from this point forward. In addition, Eeyore and the other prisoners will no longer be forced to endure the volatile whims of the warden and a formal apology has been issued to all current residents, asking for forgiveness. With the exception of the occasional noteworthy moment in the near future, I believe my work here is done. So what began as a 24-hour engagement, has now been reduced to half that thanks to the speedy return of the local governess. And with that note, I shall close. Good day to all, on this, the late hour of four.