If you like tales of high adventure, then prepare to be sorely disappointed. This story is just a short anecdote summarising an entertaining night of petty crime.

It all started with a walk commencing at 8pm, taking my party through some haunted, bear-infested back country owned by someone possessive enough to put up signs proclaiming that “trespassers will be prosecuted”. We were almost at a fence marking the beginning of some other selfish person’s property when the person behind me whispered “Pssst! Put your light out, and stay quiet!”

I did as I was bid, but turned to ask why. The words caught in my throat, however, as I saw a light bobbing up and down in the woods behind us, only a few paces from where we were standing. The light stopped, and then swept over our position. We couldn’t hide properly without making more noise (the undergrowth was too dense), so instead we bent from our waists and turned our faces away, remaining as inconspicuous as possible.

“Who is that?” I asked my informant, but he merely shook his head.

Suddenly, the light went out. Whoever this person was, they were waiting for us to make a move. Then, the phone of the person three men back began to ring. It seemed like an eternity before he managed to switch it off, and when he did the light was back on and questing again.

“Hi guys.” It was my bastard friend from work. He’d followed us at a distance all the way through the forest.

The relief was tangible, but quickly replaced by a surge of aggravation. I explained my fond desire to end his life, but ended up welcoming him to our party. We then managed to get to the road, which fortunately was publicly owned.

We arrived at the school shortly after. We climbed up the nearest wall and sat upon the roof, gazing at the stars and surrounding countryside. We talked of videogames and other innocuous things, before Bastard explained he had to be going. We bade him farewell and he departed without fanfare.

“How are we getting down?” Someone asked me, and I provided them with option A and option B.

A: Easy Mode Pansy Climb of Comfort; and B: Veteran Difficulty Certain Death and Suffering.

Two of the braver members of my party chose B, and the rest elected the way of ease. My two companions and I shimmied across some guttering and across more rooftops until we reached the other side of the school. I leapt from the roof, breaking my fall with a forward roll. The rest of my party rendezvoused with us and the other two climbed down (it wasn’t too tricky with the help a 6’7″ companion). We made our way to the playground, where I realised my watch had exploded back when I jumped from the roof. I revisited the place of my landing, collected the fragments and pocketed them, before returning to my party.

We hung about, eating Twisties ZigZags and drinking Pepsi (which, remarkably, was still cold), and chatted idly. We set out shortly after for the cemetery. The sky was clear and studded with stars, so we spent most of our time with our necks craned back. It was truly a remarkable evening.

We walked back to my house, and then all crammed back into one car (not quite legally), and then dispersed with a smattering of handshakes and hugs goodbye.

Didn’t see that many bears, though.

“Wait a minute!” Apple pipes up, looking flustered. “I don’t want you to do that! How dare you manipulate the files on the electronic device that you paid good money for!”

Apple made this clear in the following way: by making it impossible to access font files at all. Of course, you can jailbreak your phone (which, hilariously, is legal, to Apple’s chagrin) which allows you to use an FTP client to access the iPhone’s directory structure. That’s what I did.

“Oops!” Apple stifles laughter. “Your iPhone’s locked up! Too bad! You’ll have to restore to factory settings, which means your phone will become un-jailbroken and also have to be updated to firmware 4.1, which is harder to jailbreak!”

I found a way, fuck ‘em (just Google “limera1n”, works a treat on iPhone 3GSes running OS4.1). BUT NOW – I don’t have access to my wireless network. And, of course, Apple never passes up an opportunity to stab me in the vital parts.

“Guess what?” Apple asks, giggling.

“What?”

“You can’t use an FTP Client with your iPhone unless you have a wireless network!”

“But I have a USB cable. That should work.”

Apple doesn’t answer, just rolls on the floor wracked with laughter.

My deductive instincts told me this wasn’t a good sign. And, sure enough, there is virtually no possible way to use a FTP with a USB cable. So far my Internet forays have yielded hare-brained, hastily cobbled together 2MB programs like “Total Commander” and “iTunnel”, which only work with very specific combinations of hardware and firmware. “NOTE: ONLY WORKS WITH 3G 3.1.0″ etc etc. At least they had the good grace to warn me, I suppose.

Furthermore, feedback on such dubious executables varies wildly, with some people experiencing further system failure (poor bastards) and others getting exactly what they needed. One user helpfully posted:

ive taken themes that i had backed up on my comp and put them on my ipod..not all of them copied but most of them did…so. u might get some random luck

Pasted from <http://www.ipodtouchfans.com/forums/showthread.php?t=203933>

Great. That’s perfect! So, everything will be fine, as long as Lady Luck is smiling my way. What a bleeding carry on.

I’ve been at this for hours. I’ve already lost a lot of data, (namely, audiobooks and themes), in the factory settings system restore fiasco. I am getting really fucking tired of Apple and its clandestine bullshit. Next time I see Steve Jobs I’m going to punch him in the throat.

Probably not gonna happen, but hey, a guy can dream. Whew… that feels better. Nothing like a good rant, eh?

I’ve heard good things about the graphic novel the series is based on, and it’s about time someone cashed in on the Inevitable Zombie Apocalypse™ as a television series. Dead Set came close, but that was technically a miniseries, not a bona fide regular television programme. The article is followed by a trailer, but is unavailable to me “due to your country or location”. Blatant racial discrimination! There’s probably a good chance it won’t see air time here in Australia, either. How irritating.

I intend to acquire the graphic novel(s). I love Stephen King’s work, and if Frank Darabont and I have similar tastes, I’m probably in for a treat.

So, here’s my current star-spangled scout-ribbon badge thing with everything I’ve accomplished so far (highlighted), and everything I’m in the process of accomplishing (faded).

I may review maps later, with layouts and weapon locations.

I sure hope the 3DS is capable of anti-aliasing. Just look at the staircasing on that Executioner Majini’s leg. Of course, this may just be a magnified version of a low resolution screencap, in which case the system is not to blame! Here’s Jonathon Holmes’ take on it (the premise of the game, not pixel smoothing):

Wait, what? Another Resident Evil game is coming to the 3DS? Is that some sort of record for an unreleased console? I think it might be.

Well, to be fair, Resident Evil: The Mercenaries wont be totally new. From the sounds of it, the game will feature scenarios, characters, and gameplay from the Mercenaries modes found in Resident Evil 4 andResident Evil 5, but with new online co-op and competitive modes. That’s cool with me. The Mercenaries was easily my favorite part of Resident Evil 5. As for Resident Evil 4, I loved the main campaign, but I definitely logged in a lot more total hours with its Mercenaries bonus content. To get all that on the go, in 3D, with online play to boot? That may just end my productivity for life.

Sadly there’s no mention of the Mercenaries mode that started it all; the one from Resident Evil 3. Hopefully we’ll get some of that as well. I’d love to see Carlos and Nikolai get back in the action. They could be playable characters in the Resident Evil 4 and 5 modes, as the official press release does tout “brand new modes and well known characters from the series to enrich and extend the Mercenaries experience“. Could the old “dodge the dog on top of the dumpster” trick make a comeback as well?

Pasted from <http://www.destructoid.com/resident-evil-the-mercenaries-announced-for-3ds-185155.phtml>

Personally I’d like to see all the Mercenaries characters from all iterations of the series become playable. That means Leon, Joshua, Luis, Wesker — everyone. Nintendo: do not fail me.

Oh, if you’re confused about this format, I’ve been splicing up the interwebs as per my new blog methodology. Consequently you’ll recognise images and articles from other sites. Like Destructoid. Good site, check it out. This isn’t called Pug’s Plug for nothing.

Oh, doc files are audio files. And pdf files. Why not cram a jpeg on your iPod and have a listen?

I’ll probably upload them to my tumblr, and then link them via URL to this post.

P.S: Screw you, WordPress.

Should I have said “students” instead of “fans”? Does anyone care? Is my course schedule simply too erratic to follow? Do I expect answers to all these questions, including this one? There’s a conundrum for you.

While you’re pondering these pertinent perplexities, try and decode this dream for me. Tell me what it means. What’s that? “It’s not fair”? “You shouldn’t give me another question to work on ‘while I’m working on the other four’”? Shut up!

I am sitting in a simple building, maybe a granny-flat. I am in front of a tiny table with my laptop on it. The laptop is open, and on the screen is a list of unread emails awaiting my perusal. One stands out amongst the others.

“URGENT — PLEASE READ NOW”, is the title. Interest piqued, I click the email and read it. “A hit has been taken out on you. It is strongly recommended that you run for your life.”

Suddenly there’s a sharp knock. I whirl around in a panic. The door to the flat is just a pane of sliding glass, and outside is a man in a delivery uniform, holding a small cardboard package and an electronic signature reader.

Because I’m a genius, I approach the door, thinking I’ll just sign for this and then get out of here before the assassin arrives. I open the sliding door and the man hands me the signature reader.

“Sign your life away,” he says with a smile that I don’t quite like. He’s wearing a blue and white baseball cap. As I take the stylus to the screen, the man rips open the package and produces a handgun, which he prepares with a click in one fluid motion.

“I see.” I nod, and launch myself at him, shouldering him aside and pelting for the corner of the flat.

“Wait! I was sent to protect you!” He yells after me. I twist my head to see if he’s following me. I am currently running downhill, it seems like the flat is perched on a grassy hillside, pockmarked with boulders. I can see the man standing at the top of the hill. If you were sent to protect me, I think, why are you pointing that Walther P99 at me? There’s a crack as he discharges his weapon, and I hear the round whistle past my head.

Before me is a short cliff, but because it’s downhill the bottom of the cliff is lower than it should be. I leap from the top as another round punches into the dirt at the edge of the cliff. I realise I’ve jumped much too far out, and the ground is rushing up towards me much too quickly. I tuck and roll, somehow managing to regain my feet again.

To the left of me now is a stone wall, and on the other side is a two metre drop into a service station carpark. There’ll be a phone in there, I think, and I can call for help. I vault the wall and breakfall on the bitumen, up again quick-as-you-like and pounding towards the Handy Mart. I yank open the glass door which violently rings the bell at the top. The attendant looks at me, startled.

“Is there a phone I can use?” I ask him desperately, and out of breath. He points outside, and I follow his gesture to see a phone booth in the carpark.

“Isn’t there one in here?”

“Yeah, but it’s for employees only. Why are –” whzzz khkk. The round blows a hole in the glass window and sprays the attendant’s brains all over a Kit Kat cardboard display nearby. The attendant crumples behind the desk and I drop to the floor, beginning to monkey-crawl. There’s no way that round came from a handgun. He’s using a sniper rifle of some kind.

I reach the desk and find the phone mounted to its side, I snatch the receiver from the cradle and dial 0-0-0.

An annoyed voice says “What?”

“Someone’s trying to kill me!”

“Oh, great. Where?”

“What do you mean, ‘where’? Doesn’t your software trace the call automatically?”

“Don’t get snippy! I’m just doing my job. Help is on its way. Well, it will be soon. 15 minutes.”

I slam the receiver back down in a huff. I start looking frantically around for something to use as a weapon. The closest thing to it is the dangerously high saturated fat content of a new product called “Chocgasm”. As I marvel at how that product got into stores, I hear the doorbell jangle.

“I have your delivery here,” the ‘courier’ snarls.

“Yeah, well … I’m not here. Leave it at the Post Office and I’ll collect it there.”

“You’ve signed for it already.”

“You’re certainly dedicated.” I smile, “You should have a break. Have a Kit-Kat!”

I leap from hiding and lob a 12 pack of Kit-Kats at the courier. It strikes him in the face as I vault the counter. In two steps I reach him as he is pointing his Walther at me. I barrel into him, driving him against the wall. I grasp his wrist and slam it into the corner of the nearby ice-cream freezer once, twice, three times. On the third he drops the gun, but shoves me away. The Walther slides underneath the freezer, and as we look up at each other he says “I’ll have to do this with my hands, then.”

“Geez, buy me dinner first.” I quip, and he comes at me hands outstretched. I back away, but bump into the counter. His hands close around my throat. I seize his right hand with mine and twist sideways, raising my left arm and trapping his wrist with my armpit and bicep. Crack goes his wrist and he wails. I sweep out his feet from under him and he crashes to the tiles.

I spare no time in leaping over him and jamming my arm under the freezer, searching for the Walther. Whzzz PHK. I look around to see him with a long-barrelled rifle couched under his left arm. Obviously his right hand is out of commission. I continue my desperate search for the handgun. Whzzz plhk. I scream as the second round grazes my thigh, the pain like a white-hot poker pressed to my skin. My fingers close around something smooth and metal. I whip out the Walther, turn it on the courier, and fire three shots, two in the chest, one in the head.

The assassin collapses, and I let out a deep, ragged sigh. The door bangs open and a man dressed in police uniform steps in. He regards the mess and curses. He sees me and flounders for his sidearm.

“Drop your weapon!” he shouts. I realise I’m still holding the Walther, and gently place it on the floor. “You’re under arrest.”

As he helps me to my feet, I begin to lose consciousness. The world swims out of focus and I let myself go limp. When I open my eyes again, I’m looking at my side-table, and I’m awake.

Your time starts… now. Analyse away, class!

My triumphant return to consciousness was not by mere whimsy of fate. I in fact awake to tell you all about some minor gripe I have with a particular internet order I made recently.

What’s that? You don’t care? Shut up! Get your notebook out, this will be in the exam.

Two weeks ago I decided I needed a new watch.

A New Watch

I wanted a specific kind of watch and after looking in Adelaide and Melbourne (one shop each) I gave up. But then, someone introduced me to the “Internet” and I searched there instead, finding a watch to accomodate my numerous and chronological needs. I said “Yes! That’s the watch for me!” despite being wholly alone in my bedroom at the time. I bought the watch, and was dismayed to discover that the arrival date was between March 12 and March 23. “That could be almost any time at all!” I cried in dismay. Also, the shipping cost was $53, 2 dollars dearer than the watch itself.

I plonked myself down outside my house on the doorstep, and rested my head in my hands, watching the days come and go, only getting up to eat, sleep, defecate, urinate, go to university, go to work, meet with friends, watch television, play Halo online for three hours, and eat again; in that order.

I am currently borrowing a woman’s watch (which to my horror is both comfortable and easy to read) until I can finally wrap something manly around my wrist. I get queer looks as I go about my daily commute, although that may be because the watch is the only thing I wear, save for a suggestive grin. I haven’t decided yet.

Class! Wake up! Any questions? I’ll be glad to answer them and humiliate you concurrently, in the spirit of efficiency I like to think I’m renowned for.

Take for example AotV: I’ve been writing it (well, rewriting it would be more accurate) but I haven’t actually made any progress with it since I got my new laptop, mainly because of the not inconsiderable hurdle of not having any word processing software. I’m sorry, let me amend that last statement: the hurdle of not having any word processing software which supports all the unnecessary formatting I have become dependent on. Well, better section breaks and update-able contents than heroin, I suppose.

I hear the voice of the fictional reader who doesn’t exist exclaim “But Pug! There is no formatting! You’ve just been pasting your drivel straight into an online form and clicking ‘Publish’, you increasingly stupid, insane, certified loner!”

To myself I reply (because of course no one made any exclamation of the sort): “A good, if not offensive point, Constant Reader. Your loyalty is matched only by your harrowing cruelty. I’m going to tell you something now: there are two (two) versions of the chronicle!” At this point I pause, waiting a brief moment for the excited murmuring to die down. “Indeed, yes! The version you see here is the version to which I copy the other version, which holds residence on my personal computer’s hard drive. And also on half a dozen internet storage facilities for which I have forgotten my account details. It is this ‘other’ version which I doll up just for me, and to which I put all my amendments and changes first, before finally uploading here.”

This time, the installer finishes “downloading Messenger”, and then tells me “The downloaded file is corrupt”. I’m sorry, but I don’t see how that’s my problem.

And another thing: you know those old-time bicycles with the big wheel on the front? When are they going to make their big comeback to popularity? Mine’s been rusting for years in anticipation!

I need some drugs!!