8 January

What’s up, diary?

The lamp is blue. How are you? One times one is not two. Let’s have a barbeque.

That was a rhyme. I’m pretty good at making rhymes. You have to be when you write rock’n’roll songs. And that’s what I do for the Hot Martian Hunters. Yesterday the Hot Martian Hunters had a bachelor’s party at Arnold’s. We had to call Arnold Señor, because he’s been in Acapulco.

“Buenos dias,” he said when we got there.

“Hey Arnold,” we said.

“That would be Señoooor Arnold, if you please,” he snapped.

It turns out that Jasper’s computer crashed, and now he can’t get his mail-order wife. There was no point in having a bachelor’s party any more, so we had a business meeting instead. We discussed who was going to play what in the band. These are the results:

Jasper, alias One-eyed Jake, is going to play the guitar. Theobald, alias Master Theo, has been forbidden to play his flute. Ok, he can play the flute pretty well, but it just doesn’t fit in with the Hot Martian Hunters’ image. So he gets to play a high-hat cymbal instead. And me, with my usual bad luck, got picked to play bass guitar. I appealed the decision several times. I said that if I had to play the bass, then I might as well join a jazz quartet. My threats failed. I’m a bassist. Little-Eric, alias Fritz Klicker, was chosen to play the drums. MY INSTRUMENT!!! First we wanted Little-Eric to play the kazoo and carry some boxes and stuff. So Little-Eric decided to play dirty - he sat in the corner and wailed. After a half hour, the Hot Martian Hunters gave up. Fritz Klicker got to play whatever he wanted. In the end, he couldn’t decide between playing the drums or playing the bagpipe. I told Little-Eric about the incredible advantages of playing the bagpipe. Girls are so turned on by it.

“I’m not interested in girls,” Little-Eric said. “So I’d rather play drums so I won’t get attacked by all those scary groupies.”

The universe ended. Little-Eric had stolen my given place as a drummer. My life has never been so bass. Ha ha ha! At least I can try to laugh in my misery...

Señor Arnold is the band’s head technician and is responsible for finding us fans. Little-Eric is so shy that he wanted Arnold to do a bad job on purpose so that nobody would bother us. But he was out-voted. After that, our business meeting was over. We teased Arnold’s little sister Doris for a while, and then we went home.

Tomorrow, spring semester starts at school. It will be interesting to see how much weight our teacher has gained over the holidays. Last year, the class took bets. I guessed 6.2 pounds.

Drum, drum, drum,

 Little-Eric is dumb!