Day Four-Hundred-Sixteen: Every day, you said

Sorry, diary, but I need a week off. Maybe two. I'm working full-time to help Eve. Nuthin' personal, eh? I know, I said I'd write in you EVERY DAY… but… I've done pretty damn good. You're practically a novel by now. Lemme have a bit of down time. Don't worry, I'll give you a new letter by Lord B.T. to munch on when it comes. Just sent him one the other day. Okay?

Okay. See you in two weeks.

IS NOT OKAY

DRAGS, WHAT'S THE HELLS

I, diary, was sleeps. Drags writes in me, and I says, "Hey! Diary! Don't worry. Drags, interest, wane it will not. He be back. Short entry. Read it? No worry. You sleeps. Drags up all night, makes me, diary, and YOU, diary, stay up with. BUT THEN HE WRITE THAT! WHAT'S THE HELLS!

I follow. I see what he, Drags, is do. He be all weirdy after Libbers go byes, so I's should worry more, ya? Blondie-blonde is back; I see if he goes her.

Trot.

Trot trot.

Trot.

Ooo, chocolate leftovers cake on floor thinger. Makes I, diary, want mouth to be eatings. Mouth, we have; but eatings? No, diary, no. Sad. Gum up pages, is frosting

Trot.

Trot trot.

Trot trot trot.

Ah. Drags. Under bed I go; record, diary, is me.

"I don't know, Bora. She wasn't any help the last time she looked at Eve. Doubt she'd be any better now. 'sides, she's busy with… you know."

"Yeah, I guess." Is BoobyBrowns, this. She is so boobs. "What about Evangelina? She was her student, or something, you said…? Maybe she'd…?"

"Nah. I asked. Apparently Eva wasn't so good with potions and brewing and that crap. Won't talk about it much, though - her past is off-limits."

"Too bad. Still, I don't know that home remedies are the way to go. Hell, don't know if there ARE home remedies for comas. Sounds a bit… serious? For everyday fare?"

"I still gotta TRY! Don't worry, I won't expose Eve to anything really weird. Nothing that'd hurt her if she was awake. Just, y'know, keep your ears open, 'n drop me a line if anybody comes up with a good cure. For now, I'll hope this does the trick…"

"Egh… onion and beet juice? Foul. If that girl does come out, she has every right ta hate your guts."

"Ahhh, she won't. She'll get over stinky breath. Open, open, there we go, just a bit - ACK! OH GOD, SHE GOT IT IN MY MOUTH, IT TASTES HORRIBLE, IT'S SO GROSS!"

"Ha ha ha! That's what you get! Nice spittin', 'lil one."

(Drags is now clean mouth for ten minuteajiggers. BoobyBrowns laughs at. So does diary. Smelly? Take THAT, negligent Drags, take THAT!)

"Eugh. I think I kinda vomited. In my mouth. That was so gross."

"Poor baby. Don't give your daughter anythin' you wouldn't be willing to try yourself."

"Yeah… I guess… good lesson…"

"C'mon. Robert may not've had any cookbooks, but I did. Maybe we can find somethin' that'll perk her up."

"Yeah, okay… back soon, Eve. Mwah."

(Kissus. They'd leave. I pursue, but diary? Legs? Sooooo tiny. Teensy tiny. Fail. Poor diary.)

I go back now. Is entried. Better, even, than Drags, as writer. Diary? Totals. Totes and totals. You, me, diary, we's gonna hit it big, bay-bee.

Sinceres,

Diary