Alright, I just got home from work to see my stereo broken with sparks flying out of it. I didn’t notice it before I left for work because I was in a rush. It gets even stranger… I go into my room to see a plate of sausages sitting on my drawer. I don’t remember cooking them. This must have all happened during Thursday. Besides eating the potato and going to sleep, I have no memories of what happened that day. This definitely has to be the work of the drug...
I have no idea when I made these hot dogs or how they got in here...
