Soul Eater III < WildBob >

As I drove down my long driveway, I could see my last steer in the front pasture. He was getting to be a good sized boy. I called him Stew because there was never any doubt in my mind where he would end up. I pulled up in front of my house and the chickens all scattered. They had somehow gotten out of the henhouse once again.

I kept my layers separate from my fryers and it looked like only the layers had gotten loose. I went into the barn and got some grain. I put it in a bucket and shook it while I opened the door to the henhouse. The chickens all came running in. I had to tighten a couple of screws in the henhouse door hinge and though that the chickens would be safe for the night. I fed and watered the rest of the animals while I was out there and threw some hay out for Stew.

I carried my groceries into the house and put a box of wine in the fridge. I was feeling pretty good and actually thought that maybe my life was finally turning around. I was a video game consultant. I had had a great deal of success about fifteen years before when video gaming was in its infancy. Several of my games had been quite successful. I still got royalty checks because other games were “based” on some of my work. My last hit was over twelve years ago. I should have made enough to live on for the rest of my life if it hadn’t been for my ex. When she divorced me, she cleaned me out. She got the home in the hills of Los Gatos, I got my grandfathers cabin in eastern Oregon. She got the stocks in the high tech industries that later made her millions, I got the royalties to my games that fizzled so quickly they hardly paid me anything. It seemed fair at the time but it turned out that she got all the gold in the mine, and all I got was the shaft.

I went over to my computer to check my email. I had sent out several proposals for games to friends of mine that were in the industry. I though they had a lot of potential. I was just waiting for my next hit to put me back on top of things financially. My email was pretty depressing. My ideas apparently were behind the times. They lacked originality. I got an offer to code a small interface. It was only going to pay about one tenth of what it was worth but who was I to turn down work. I didn’t reply because it was so depressing.

I started my dinner, two packages of Top Ramen noodles. I’d put in some of my home grown chicken and a few veggies from my garden. That was pretty much what I had for dinner every night. I poured myself a big glass of wine after dinner and settled in for some serious coding. I was still a pretty fast coder and though that I could knock out the game interface in about a week. I drank and I coded. I got lost in my work. I had my new stick next to my monitor in my pen holder and kept looking at it.

PART IV http://www.unsolvedmysteries.com/usm306374.html

I just have to stop going to antique stores.

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