lördag 23 januari 2016

31 January

What’s up, diary?
 Today is the absolutely last day ... of the month.
 Maybe I should write a little summary of what’s happened during this, the first month of the year. Well, it started with ... um ... and then ... what happened next?
 Well ... no, forget it, nothing really happened.
 Or wait, NOW I know. I got three zits and a cold.
 Otherwise, nothing to report.

 Today my band the HOT MARTIAN HUNTERS has rehearsal.
 Jasper bought a new guitar string that he wants to try out and Little-Eric got to borrow a broken drumstick from a real drummer.
 But that’s nothing compared to what I’ve done.
 I’ve written the words to our new song.
 It’s about the end of January.
 First you sing “yeah” four times, and then you sing: “Laaaaaast day, fiiirst month. January says game over. February wants you to put in a quarter.”
After singing that eight times you sing “yeah” and then the song’s over.
 It’s totally cool.
 Christopher is always talking about this new video game called Sludge.
 His head is going to turn to sludge if he doesn’t stop playing video games so much.
 At least, that’s what they said on the news.
The Paytonville Pumas played last night.
 I don’t know where Paytonville is, but the Pumas lost.
 It’s too bad. 
For them at least.

And now onto the tragedy about the toilet paper stuck in my ear. Arnold tried to pick it out yesterday with a pencil. The tip broke off and so now I think I have lead poisoning too.
 Thanks Arnold - what a pal you are. Friend for sale - cheap!

30 January

What’s up, diary?

I can’t hear you. 
Because today I’m deaf. 
Are you wondering why, diary? 

Well, it’s because I was hanging out with my main-squeeze Nadia today after school. 
She wanted to play some songs that she’s been learning.
“Cool,” I said, and thought she was going to put on a CD.
Nadia took out her violin. HELP, I thought.
I acted like I got the flu and pretended to have a runny nose.
“Ooops,” I said. “I just got a snot attack.”
“Gross,” Nadia said.
“Yup,” I said and snuck off to the bathroom.
Then I stuffed my ears full of toilet paper. 
So her violin couldn’t torture me. 
When I got back into her room, I couldn’t hear a thing. She started moving the bow across the strings.
“Oh, how wonderfully beautiful!” I said, and clapped.
Which I shouldn’t have done.
“Do you have PEAS for BRAINS??” Nadia said. “I’m just tuning the strings.”
Nadia got raging mad and started using her bow like a sword. Unfortunately, she poked me in the ear with her bow-sword. The bow pushed the toilet paper in so far that it got stuck somewhere between my ear-drum and my brain. And now I’m deaf.

Dang, dong, ding,
 can’t hear a thing!

29 January

What’s up, diary?

I hope that the police don’t have special fire-works dogs. 
Because if they do, then Arnold and I better run away to Alaska. 

Here is a true description of what happened when we celebrated Arnold’s reign as king with home-made fire works.
The innocent culprits, Arnold Martin and Ned Floyd, met together by pure accident at Arnold’s house. 
There, by chance, they put together a few completely harmless bottle-rockets. 
By mistake, the two boys happened to bring the bottle-rockets with them to Castle Park. 
Just as the mistake was discovered, Arnold accidentally lit a match right near the fuse. 
Unfortunately, the bottle-rockets flew off toward a house.
“Long live the king! Run for your lives!” the boys screamed as the bottle-rockets disappeared into somebody’s yard.

What happened next, is at the current time unknown. 
But as we speak, surely hundreds of reporters are trying to uncover the truth. 
The whole story is tragic. 
Maybe it never even happened. 
And if it didn’t, then Ned Floyd and Arnold Martin weren’t involved. 
And if they were, then it wasn’t on purpose.
Long live the king!

Bye, bye,
 royal pie!

28 January

What’s up, diary?

Arnold and I rented a video yesterday that had a king in it named Arnold. 
Now Arnold wants to be a king, too. 
In the movie there were thousands of people who were crowded together in the town-square to wave at their king.
“Look at all those people waving at me,” Arnold said.
“Idiot,” I said. “They’re not waving at you.”
“Then how come they all have signs that say LONG LIVE KING ARNOLD?” Arnold asked.
Arnold told me that starting today he’s going to start talking like a king. 
Since he’s a king, he won’t have to go to school any more. 
Because royal people don’t have to go to school. 
Royal people just have to be at home and glide gracefully from room to room.
Then I told Arnold that royal people have to go to fancy balls and eat caviar and drink wine.
“Mmmm, yum,” King Arnold said.
“And you have to eat with a knife and a fork,” I said.
Then Arnold resigned as king. He doesn’t know how to eat with a knife and fork.
But Arnold still wants to have a big celebration, just like the king in the movie had. 
Arnold has a recipe for home-made fire works that we can use. 
We’re going to experiment some later this afternoon. 
Arnold said that I should write a will before I come over, “just in case.” 

I can’t figure out what he meant.

Just in case,
 I’m getting out of this place!

27 January

What’s up, diary?

Last night I wanted to watch tv. 
I was planning to watch a nature program about squirrels and moss. 
But I couldn’t. 
I couldn’t find the remote control. 
You can’t watch tv without the remote control. 
Everything gets all fuzzy and you can’t turn up the volume from the couch. 
You have to get up. 
I called Mom.
“Mom, Mom, come quick!”

Mom came running in and thought I was about to die. Which was true, too.
“What is it?” she asked, worried.
“Could you turn up the tv for me?” I said. “I can’t hear nature.”
Mom got all upset and called me a lazy bum. 
She told me that if I couldn’t hear, then I could turn it up myself.
“But how?” I said angrily. “The remote control is gone.”
“You could start by getting up and walking the ten feet to the tv,” Mom said, irritated.
“Are you crazy?” I said. “I might wear out my muscles with all that running back and forth.”
Then Mom threatened to send me to Siberia - where they don’t have any remote controls at all. 
But if that’s the case, then how do they watch tv?

I’m not lazy,
 Mom’s just crazy!

26 January

What’s up, diary? 
 My life has been given back to me. 
 I am no longer a starving plankton. 
 Our diet is over. 
 It ended yesterday. Mom found two sauce stains on Dad’s tie. 
 He had eaten lunch with his boss. 
 Today I am both happy and glad. 
 I’ve been busy developing my sixth sense. 
 Answer: your sixth sense is when you can predict things, like when you KNOW what is going to happen in the future. 
 Example 1. The next word I’m going to write is going to start with the letter x. 
 What did I tell you?! 
 My sixth sense predicted that the next word was going to start with an x, and it was right! 
 I picked a hard letter so you wouldn’t think I was bluffing. 
 I even know what we’re going to have for lunch at school tomorrow. Without looking at this week’s menu!!! 
Now I’m turning on my sixth sense: ZZZZZZZHUMMMZZZZZZZ. 
We’re going to have pizza. 
I tried to prove my powers to Mom. 
 She said that we always have pizza on Fridays so it’s not all that hard to guess. 
I was insulted. 
 “Do you think I’m a fake??” I asked her. 
“If you’re not a fake then maybe you can tell me next week’s lottery numbers so that we can all be millionaires,” she answered. 
“Too bad,” I said. “My sixth sense works best in poverty.” 

 Don’t panic, it’s magic!

25 January

What’s up, diary?

Thank-You Speech to a Dad:
Thank you, Dad. 
Thank you for denying me food. 
Thank you for letting my muscles rot and die and for letting biologists now classify me as spineless goo. 
Thank you, Dad, for letting my weakness deny me the joy of pushing down a fourth-grader when we were playing 
King of the Hill at the park today. 
And thanks for letting the fourth-grader push me down instead!

No, diary, I didn’t write that wrong. 
A fourth-grader beating up a seventh-grader! 
And it’s all Dad’s fault. 
I’m experiencing the greatest depression of my life. 

My ex-best friend Arnold tried to cheer me up by telling me that I’m going to be in the next issue of the school newspaper. 
“The headline is going to read: FOURTH-GRADER BEATS UP WEAK SEVENTH-GRADER,” Arnold said.
“You’re a big help,” I said.
Arnold wanted to perform a re-enactment of the events. 
I refused to take part. So Arnold said that he’d have to hire a stunt-actor to play my part.
“And who are you going to get who looks like me?” I asked.
“My frog, Todd,” Arnold answered.

Thanks, peace,
 hotdoghamburgersandwich grease (I wish!)