**You’ve found a missing entry from the diary of your favorite well-known literary character. What insight does this lend to the character’s
motives? Would this previously unknown revelation change the story? Perhaps Romeo just wanted Juliet’s family’s fortune. Maybe while in Wonderland, Alice made a unique acquaintance not mentioned by Lewis Carroll. There’s no need to rewrite the book; please keep entries, including title, to 75 words or less. **
You are looking for a good excuse to ignore that pile of papers to your left, avoid being delegated to an piss ant assignment that you would volunteer for in a million years, then look no farther. Aunt Shirley is here to help you waste your day away while you look like a busy little beaver.
Submit as many times as you like.
Bribes are accepted. Cash only.
Depending on the response, I’ll announce a winner probably Saturday afternoon.
Here is my entry that I submitted to WD. With apologies to Moby Dick
"Dear Diary,
Sharing a room tonight with a nice enough guy, even though he didn’t seem to be impressed with my Franklin Mint Shrunken Head’s collection.
He introduced himself as, " Call me Ishmael." I retorted,
“Call me Shirley.” That broke the ice.
Ishy was going to sign on with the SS Minnow until I convinced him that Starbuck,the first mates coffee on the Pequod, makes better coffee than the Professor.
Here is my entry that I submitted to WD. With apologies to Moby Dick
"Dear Diary,
Sharing a room tonight with a nice enough guy, even though he didn’t seem to be impressed with my Franklin Mint Shrunken Head’s collection.
He introduced himself as, " Call me Ishmael." I retorted,
“Call me Shirley.” That broke the ice.
Ishy was going to sign on with the SS Minnow until I convinced him that Starbuck,the first mates on the Pequod, makes better coffee than the Professor.
we met again tonight. Still separated by the wall of family and bloodlines. Oh, how I hate these stupid rules! If only there was a way to peer through the wall like Thisbe, to see the fire in my Montague’s eyes, that breathtaking energy that I saw again today. I pray only that it will not end as that story did, but if it must I should happily die on his sword. Why do I stay loyal to this family when it separates me from my sweet Romeo?
I will win him. We will flee together, to some distant part where Montague and Capulet are but words. Ah, how I long for that day!
Sick of this pilgrimage. Sick of that disgusting miller who makes dirty jokes and leers at me. Sick of that crooked, snotty pardoner and his little bum-boy summoner. Sick of that goodygood knight. I swear if that prioress’ little mutt doesn’t quit yapping at all hours of the night I’ll break its fucking neck. And that Jeff guy goes on and on and he can’t speak bloody English.
having a fabulous time here in the French Quarter. Passing pretty well. Stella’s keeping mum, even to that big, strong, sweaty, muscular (oooooh, girl!) brute of a husband of hers. Was afraid when he went into my things that he’d find the falsies and jockstraps, but distracted him with flirting. He’s delish, but he scares me a little.
Oops, must go now. Got to wax before Stanley gets back from work.
Well, they’re all finally gone over the sea. Now I can unleash the full power of The Ring, and rule all. Who knew that Gollum, with so many lesser rings on him, would cause Mt. Doom to erupt? Acting as that bastard Frodo’s slave for years had it’s advantages, though – the battle of wills with Sauron was tough. I’ll keep this finger to remember it by. Can’t wait to see ‘Strider’ piss his pants when I command him to turn over the Kingdom!
I can’t believe they fell for that ‘nanny’ crap! And the dad’s a banker as well, so this place has got to be loaded. I’ll have this place emptied out and be out of here by the time the wind changes.
I go walking the streets of the city again. I hear the whispers as they go by. “There’s the walking dude”, “That Randall Flagg, he scares me”. Why? I give them fun, I give them a place where they aren’t freaks, a playground where their desires run free, and they can be anything they want.
So why do they say these things? I’ve even saved some of their lives. What, is the trashcan man, that mentsal defective, better off in the pre-plague world? Yeah, sure he is. I suppose Lloyd’s better off eating rat and starving to death in a freakin cell too. I made these people. I made this place.
That black bitch has got to go. I’ve tried getting into her head, but she just calls out to Jesus. Blind bitch, he isn’t going to save her. He’d just as soon turn a blind eye to her cries. I could give her unlimited power, but she’d never take it. Coward. All of those people are idiots, following that dumbass. “I’m 103 years oid and still break my own bread…” Yeah, yeah, yeah. Try controlling a bowel movement, then I’ll be impressed.
Well, the plans continue, I’ll write later, we’re making good progress on the restoring of vegas, but I just know those Denver people are gonna mess with it. Bunch of rejects those Denver idiots.
I had that dream about Ron again, with the same result as last time. Fortunately the cleaning spell worked; I don’t know if I could have explained the stains to the house elves again. I don’t know how much longer I can hide my true feelings from him…
The end grows near . . . soon I’ll be captured and killed for being myself. Why is anyone’s guess . . . the things they accuse me of, others do. The names people call me are theirs, not mine.
Oh, how I wish I could show them the true way. The way God really intended . . . the natural way. Animals do it . . . why can’t humans too? We are animals, after all.
I will go to the cross knowing I have kept my homosexuality a secret.
Damn it! Damn it all to hell! My plan nearly worked! There they were, writhing in their death throes, all of them - I had the crown in hand! And then that snotty little brat Fortinbras just had to show up. Spoiled everything I’d been working for.
Back to the old drawing board, I guess. Say, I wonder if Claudius had any henbane left over…
The kids were at it again, and my ribs are killing me. EVERY SINGLE TIME I lie down, it’s <wham> <wham> <wham>, there they are, regular as clockwork. How many times do I have to tell them to stop hopping on me?!?
I have to go call the doctor now – I think my spleen is ruptured.
It happened again. Just like it happens every day. I could weep with the sheer frustration of it all. I was nearly overcome by the desire to wrap my hands around his throat, knocking that ridiculous wool plaid hat off his head as I squeeze the life from his body. How hard can it be to get a name right? It’s elementary, Inspector Holmes!
The bitch came back with the WWW’s broomstick! Now I gotta shit a heart, a brain and some courage from somewhere. Not to mention getting her home somehow.