Day Two-Seventy-One: Book Covers Gone Bad

So here, diary, is what happens when you, diary, is abandoned. AGAIN. Damn Libbers.

For weeks, many billions of weeks, I is tolerate the Libbers. Nice lady! Wife. Drags make good pick. Like Libbers. Don't like Libbers be diary's owner thinger, but nice. Good woman. Take cares of the diary, me, while Drags off doing his stuff and things.

Libbers say Drags die. I? No. Libbers is in-corr-ECT-icus. Drags can't no die, because… Drags… is… Drags. Is Drags!

Drags.

DRAGS. Period discussion has been ended finito finale taking the seats you ladies and GENTS.

Libbers, she be put in cagey thing. Close to same place where's I, diary, save Drags from the shorties. This time, I, diary, be there with her, so rescue? Hard. Harder. Harderest! Very difficult, you might be saying.

But Libbers, she breaks out. How? Crazy hair. CRAZY. It comes, it opens the door so fast, and some lady in hair is say "Come. Hurry. We have little time." Then POOF! Off is we run, fleeing from scene of the great crime.

Crime being, that Drags once be imprisoned here. In-fam-ous. They write books about this, one day. Cool as me? Inconceivable.

Hair lady, she sweeps us all big pretty like to the huuuuge wetness thing. I's been here before. Ratty here before, he hide me in tree, tells me to stay put. I not, ands I go boldly into big building area, filled with shorties. Find Drags. Now? We go deep. So deep. Then, hey, we's in home! Old smelly home, full of weirdness. Stuck in tree. Familiar. Is good.

Except bugs on walls. So many wrigglers. Gross. Remind me of guy, ugly man. I pinch his nose. That? Fun. Wrigglers still gross, even when nose pinching be fun. Gross and fun, crossing is no.

Libbers leave me. Old woman say things, and Libbers say things, and both be all excite, and off they go. And me, diary, you and me, we stuck. We STUCK in smelly old house, full of wrigglers and toaders and books. Books no near cool as I. Don't hang out with thems books.

Want leave. Follow Libbers. She takes me to Drags. Then he writes in me again, and we be good.

How… how diary gets out of here? This I ask.

Sinceres,

Diary