And as excepted and clear cut as I soothsay, the whacko psychopath as usual decided to play his stupid irritating games with me.
I spend an hour with my face a concrete mixture of anger and aggravation, spice up with consternation and fear as I impatiently waited for Chris Anderson to lay down his terms and conditions I must oblige to, before he reveals the identity of the person who is responsible for the dead cat and the threat written on the wall.
I am beginning to think my life is a big loop of mysteries. When I thought I had fixed every piece of the puzzle of my life, there comes another hidden pieces. And the person having those pieces is none other than Chris Anderson, the psycho again.
I wasted an entire hour listening to him bullshit me with his irksome puzzles crap. I gave up and left the restaurant.
I guess I have to painfully wait for his unpredicted visits for his vexing clues.