If I act sick and always have a disease I do not have to do anything. I can sit on the couch and eat candy and watch TV all day. I can be a lazy cunt. Then when they leave I can go in the kitchen and take out the recipe that I had been working on since last year. Nothing as obvious as arsenic or aconite—but things that have been left to change and blacken month after month.
They are kept in separate jars with stoppers on them and they have skull and crossbones labels on them. They think it’s funny and my way of amusing myself. Some of the ingredients are simply herbs and harmless on their own…parsley, basil, thyme, salt…and some of the ingredients are things you normally don’t keep in your kitchen…dirt from my best friend’s grave who died when we were 16, my blood during a full moon, hair, a rusty nail from an open field, water from a stagnant lake, taken at night. They are numbered 1 to 47. I am 47 years old. I will add another jar in July the day after my birthday. It will be a jar of water with a snail in it. I will cork the jar and the snail will live 48 days. On the 48th day the snail will die and will disappear…except for the shell. The water will turn silver-pink and will glow until the next lightning storm. Then the jar will be left in the storm and it will collect some of the rain water which will douse the glow—but now the water will be different. If the vapors from this water are inhaled, the person inhaling them will be clairvoyant for a month…but will only be able to discern bad things. And every moment of insight will be accompanied by fever. Usually the psychic abilities are attributed to the high fever—but every one of the things comes true—or are already true. It is a horrible fate to be sick