I was trapped in a cage of my own device

I was trapped in a cage of my own device and could not find the key. My sigils were empty gestures, my will a stagnant pond. I went through the motions of a mundane life, hoping to

make my cage my home. I managed to reach through the bars to get to my laptop & order a futon & a rug to make it comfy. It never occured to me that I could've called a locksmith.

but no matter how many stories I came up with all of them sounded like cover upis for the fact that my dog was making me his bitch...The furniture guy was at the door and the cage

match was just about to start. My dog loved cage matches and forced me to watch with him. The furniture guy would have to wait. I sat down with Fido, with the pizza pretzel rolls

"Oi! I've been waiting 2 hours with this f'ing futon!" yelled the furniture guy. Adrenaline coursing, I wrestled him into the cage. "You, me, to the death," I growled. Fido howled

while the furniture skinhead drove his skull into my sternum, splitting it in two. I crumpled to the ground, and writhed. The skinhead growled as he circled me, flexing his biceps,

"Please!" I begged the skinhead, holding me down, still growling in my face, his eyes now snakelike. "Don't hurt me. I'll, I'll do anything." He got off of me. "Oh, yeah? Like?"

'This.' I punched the skinhead square in the jaw. He was out cold, sprawled over the floor, and my escape had finished before it even began. It was looking to be one of those days

that started and ended with pounding skulls, and oh, how we miss the gooey middle. Consolation comes in the warm fuzzies of triage.