September 23, 1998

Cold rain. I stood on the station platform fiddling around with the Anger Birds game on my phone. The train was unusually behind schedule and I began to worry that Mr. Shreddington would be upset if I was late for another appointment. The overhead speakers squealed before announcing that no trains would be coming due to some escaped electric eels. Apparently a man had dropped his aquarium of eels while riding in the dining car a few miles before my stop. The eels went wildly flapping and slithering all over the place, stinging and biting unsuspecting women and children. Luckily no one was seriously injured. I was compelled to see eels with my own eyes - so I hoofed it up the tracks. I spent the next hour tracking the escaped eels through the woods and into an old abandoned mine shaft. Crawling into the damp darkness I found myself standing in a cold pool of water. The eels circled in, slithering around my ankles. I felt the dregs of my bowels release and bitter were my thoughts.