The Biped has returned. At least, someone who looks an awful lot like him has entered the house and helped himself to his liquor.
Honestly, I can’t tell who’s who anymore. This morning, three separate newspapers each delivered to this address contained a story linking my Biped to some sort of bank heist.
Or somebody who looks like The Biped.
It’s all very confusing. All I know is, if the guy sitting next to me is not my Biped, he sure smells a lot like whoever has been picking up my poop for the last two years.
Then again, what do I know? A couple shots of Whistle Pig and everything smells like the cat downstairs.