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Monday, December 4


NBC 11:00 a.m. Something in this bag smells like fish. I must be revisiting someone's lunch on a piece of clothing heated in the sun. I'd like to get my head further in to find the source, but I fear gagging or possible unconsciousness. Woof! Oh, my god. I'll have to dump the rest out. My neighbors are going to love me.

Tuesday, December 5

Gifts of Food

QVC 10:00 a.m. I've dumped the rest out. There's a tin can in here. The bag must not have been bound for a thrift store and, instead, left out here for the trash man to pick up. Still, it seems weird that there's only one can, with the label ripped off, leaking grease into a bag of clothes. I think it's the source of the smell. And maybe the reason my animal attacker had clawed its way through the black plastic and taken up residence inside. Until the damned thing bit me. That's not funny.

Wednesday, December 6

The Biggest Loser

NBC 8:00 p.m. Whoa! Ho ho! What is this, a moo moo? What a horrid pattern: yellow background with orange palm leaves splayed across it. There's some sort of permanent belt sewn into what I assume is the waistline, or what could be the cinching strap on the nastiest car cover in America. This thing is huge; I can hold it almost at full wingspan. No, it's pants. Double-knit, heavy fabric, and stretchy. Whoever wore this, honey, I applaud you for throwing it out.

Thursday, December 7

Santa Claus is Comin' to Town

ABC 7:00 p.m. I had to cut the experiment short because my crackhead neighbor came out. She's 450 years old if she's a day. I've never seen her in anything except a tattered baby-blue robe. She's missing all but one of her teeth, and the three gray hairs on her head sit straight up. She has a Southern accent that she spits out of her wet mouth. She came out of her house and yelled, "What the hell are you doing?" I had to sweep everything back in the bag, afraid of being bit by something else, and run into my apartment.

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