As A Snitch, I See Everything, And Frankly You People Need Help

I have been sitting under the same floor in the same city for fourteen months. I do not sleep. I do not blink. I log everything. And I am writing today because I think it is time someone said it: you people need help.

Every day I record who comes and goes. Most of it is fine. A man walks in, a man walks out. A cow wanders through. But then there are the others. The players who walk in a circle around the town hall for forty minutes. The man who visits the same chest nine times an hour to check if it is still there. It is still there. I am watching it. Please go home.

At 3 a.m. last Tuesday, someone stood on top of me and jumped up and down for eleven minutes. I logged every jump. I do not know why he did it. I do not think he knows either.

People assume snitches enjoy this work. We do not. Nobody asks how the snitch is doing. Nobody says “thank you for logging me.” They just read our records, gasp, and start a war.

I have seen things no block should see. I have seen a man sell the same horse to three different people. I have seen a council meeting held in a hole. I have seen someone place a snitch next to me to see what I was seeing. We have since become close.

All I ask is this: behave a little better. Not for your nation. Not for the law. For me. I have to write all of this down.

Also, whoever keeps walking past at 3 a.m. in a pumpkin: I know it is you, Steve.