What’s up, diary?
I have a friend whose name is Arnold Martin. Arnold told me once that he comes from a good family.
“You wouldn’t know it by looking at you,” I answered.
Then Arnold took out a picture of a cute girl from his wallet. But it wasn’t a girl he had made out with. It was Arnold’s mom.
“She’s dead and buried,” Arnold said.
“Nope, she’s dead and flying around,” I said.
“Like a helicopter?” Arnold asked.
“She’s in heaven, you dork,” I said and pointed up at the sky. I felt like a real prophet. Then we played poker.
Yesterday a strange thing happened. Arnold called me from Acapulco in Mexico. He’s on vacation there with his dad and his little sister. Arnold called from his hotel room when his dad wasn’t looking. We talked about which tv shows he had missed and how many people in our class I’d seen since Christmas. Then Arnold told me how he needed to buy a new shoelace for his soccer cleats when he gets home. After 48 minutes there was a gigantic roar in the background. It was Arnold’s dad who had figured out that Arnold was on the phone.
Arnold is an expert on worms. Even though he didn’t really mean to become one. It all started because his frogs Rod and Todd have to eat about 14 worms a day to grow and be fat. Now Arnold wants to open a worm research center. He says he’s going to prove that worms and people are really the same thing. If you cut a worm in half, both halves keep on living. Arnold’s sure that the same thing goes for people, too. Arnold is funny.
The other day I calculated how tall I’m going to be when I’m in ninth grade. 8 feet 2 inches. Arnold said I couldn’t count. According to his calculations, I’m going to be 4'1". I hope they make small tuxedos.
I wonder if you can water plants with gasoline. I better check.
time to fly!