Timothy Alan - Shia's Log: Day 6 lyrics

Day 6. October 28, 2012. 9:26 pm. Canned beans have never tasted so good in my entire life, I swear to you. Appreciate any food that you can while you have it, because after it's gone, you can't cherish it as much. Growing up, canned beans were the norm for us, anyways, but they really hit the spot when you live a few days off of cookies and almost-spoiled milk. We've made a pact, Elliot and I. That we won't completely binge on what we have. He's a strong little guy, it won't be too bad. I counted, and we have a total of thirty-four cans of food. I overshot a bit with “weeks,” but if we each have two cans a day, one in the morning and one in the late evening, it'll last us a little over a week. Then I'll go and get some more when it runs out. Or so I thought. Something… unexpected happened today. I became a parent. I know, I know, let me explain what happened. So today, Elliot and I were enjoying our cans of baked beans, chili, green beans, and whatever other cans I grabbed from the store, when a loud pounding came from the door. No one knew we were in here as far as I knew. I panicked. If a Try-Trip got in here, it would take more than a kitchen knife to fend him off, and I wasn't going to bludgeon him with one of the cans unless I absolutely had to. There was food in those. I snuck out of the kitchen into the front, feeling like James Bond in a Jura**ic Park movie, and listened for anything. When I didn't hear anything unusual, I slid my knife underneath the door and used the reflection to see what was out there. Get this: there was a little girl standing next to the door! A blonde-haired little girl just standing there. I unlocked the door and she ran inside, crying. I asked her how she survived. In retrospect (it happened sooner than I thought), that's kind of a rude thing to first ask a crying little girl, but I needed answers. If it was anything other than “I'm Sleeping Beauty and I just awoke from my coma and had an odd craving for some coffee,” we had a problem. She said she'd been with a group but she'd gotten lost from them and wandered here. I couldn't exactly tell her “Hit the road, Jack, and don't come back no more,” so I did what I hope anybody would do in these tough times. I invited her into our little group. Elliot took an immediate liking to her. I'm not surprised. Her name's Dana. She's eight years old, so they aren't too far apart in age, plus he has to get bored with being around me all the time. I'll admit she's a nice addition. I let her in without a moment's hesitation, but all I've been thinking since is the worries of having another mouth to feed. Two kids, one adult and only thirty-four cans of food. Looks like that week isn't happening. And who's to say this isn't some sort of trap, and that this little girl isn't really the scout for another group of survivors looking to invade our turf and steal our food? And I find it oddly peculiar that out of all the stores around here, she knocked on the one who had someone inside. I'm keeping my eye on her, no matter how much Elliot likes her. She may be cute, but cuteness isn't worth betrayal. Sleeping with one eye open, Shia.