This weekend I found a necklace in my car. The pendant is a small, dark, steel cross, slightly crooked, with the bottom sharpened like a nail or a spike. It's hanging on a thin, black, leather cord. I asked everyone in my family, but it doesn't belong to any of them. This can only mean one thing.
My first dealings with the Knights Templar (this is all very secret, so please don't tell anyone or post it on the Internet) was more than eight years ago. They kidnapped me and forced me to help them decipher some ancient Etruscan stone tablets. They claimed to have found the tablets buried beneath the altar in an ancient church somewhere in the Fertile Crescent. I tried to explain to them that I was a computer programmer and couldn't really help them, but they insisted. So, I made something up about a chalice and holy blood or something and, satisfied, they let me go.
This necklace can mean only one of two things: 1) They figured out that I lied to them and they're pissed. (Not very likely, though. These guys believe anything and everything.) 2) They need my help again. Crap. These guys are a real pain in the ass, you know? I mean, it would be one thing if they were good company, but they're really not fun guys. They're so earnest and dedicated to their ridiculous missions which, if you ask me, they just make up to fill their otherwise meaningless lives. They should all just get a hobby or something. A hobby that doesn't involve kidnapping people would be a good choice.
Well, there's not much I can do but wait, I guess. If I disappear for a while, don't get too worried. I'm sure it won't take me long to send these bozos off chasing their shadows into the night. I know exactly the kind of crap they love to hear.
Hello, friends. What's new in your world?
Later. Love.
