Day Two-Fifty-Nine: Long Overdue

DRAGS

WHY IS YOU THE NOT WRITE IN ME

I AM HERE AND THERE IS A PEN THING

WRITES

YOU LOUT

Grah! Never been so long, not since visit to ratty land, that somebody no write in my! Drags has lulled, I, diary, this I know, but two days and NO PERSONS?! Inconceivable.

So I spy. Yes. I is be all recordy-type. Drags, he writes what he say in me, so I do too. Don't tell no no one, though, diary - secret. Don't want Drags be mad.

Ah! Big hairy man and Drags, they talk. Perfect opp-or-tu-ni-ty. Listen in secrets, diary, listen!

"… fuck, I'm starving. This shit they left down here ain't fit to feed to goats, let alone people."

"Mmm."

"Haven't seen the bastards from below in, fuck, three hours now. They tried to rush us while you were sleepin'. Held 'em off with just a wave of that stupid ballista… dunno if that'll keep 'em off us forever, but…"

"Mmm."

"'Mmm'? That all you got to say, you gods-damned layabout? No other comment about our little-fuckin'-predicament?"

"…"

"…"

"Mmm."

"Ah, fuck you. Oughta rip your face off 'n toss it down to those bastards as a sacrifice. Maybe they'd let the rest 'o us go."

"Maybe you should write a poem about your feelings and toss it down. They'll feel sorry for us. Offer you a therapy session."

"…what did you just say?"

"Did I fuckin' stutter? You HEARD what I said."

(Oooo, Drags is maaaaaad. Hairy man usually don't get this language, no sirma'am.)

"Gonna beat me up over it? Huh, Cedric? Fuck the captain crap. Don't need it. We're equally screwed, way down 'ere. C'mon, bring out those goddamned fists 'o yours. Let's have it out. You've beat me up so many other times. What's different now? Huh? Be brave, big fucking man."

"…"

"What? Nuthin' to say? You piece of shit. After all the names y'called me over the years, you've got nuthin' to say?"

"…"

"SAY SOMETHING!"

"What'd you think of them?"

"What?"

"The poems. I know you stole one. I ain't stupid. What… what'd you think?"

"…"

"Well?"

"You gotta be joking me."

"I'm not! Ain't like I'm gonna find a better critic at this point, is it?! Tell me what you thought! Haven't shown those to anybody before, 'n I'd like an honest opinion!"

"Uhhh…"

"…"

"They were…"

"…?"

"Nice."

"… nice."

"Yeah. Nice."

"You want me to beat your face in?"

"What! What! That's my opinion, cap'n! Nice!"

"Fuck off! That's just some titchy little shit word meant t'placate my feelings! If you thought they were shit, c'mon out with it!"

"I said they were NICE!"

"TRUTH!"

"NICE!"

"TRUTH!"

"FINE! BACK OFF, YA SMELLY ARSE! I THOUGHT THE LANGUAGE WAS GOOD BUT THE MESSAGE WAS TIRED AND DULL! LOVE POEMS?! REEEEEEEEAL FUCKIN' ORIGINAL, CAPTAIN FANCYPANTS!"

"Hey, what're you guys yellin' 'bout up there? Can I join in? I'm bored."

"FUCK OFF, BERNARD, WE'RE BUSY."

"Fine, cripes, sister almighty…"

(Lotsa heavy breathing. Maybe, says I, they run a marathon. Marathon of words. Sounded like it happens.)

"…"

"…"

"Thanks."

"Thanks?"

"Yeah. Thanks. Honest opinion. Thanks. Never asked anybody before."

"… you're welcome?"

"T… thanks."

"…"

"What d'you think I could work on?"

"Huh?"

"Y'know, if we get outta this. Any… any pointers? Y'know… from one writer t'another."

"…"

"…?"

"Cedric?"

"Yeah?"

"You're a good guy."

(They talk boring things now. Don't care, is me. I writes entry in dark; is good. Night, diary!)

Sinceres,

Diary