Rorschach's DiaaaaaaaJournal
January 25, 1974
Woke up. Too tired to get out of bed. Too sick of the crime that's infesting the city. Went back to sleep. Had a dream that someone was making a movie about me and all of the others. Hit rock
bottom at the box office. Can see why. Are you kidding me? It was horrible. My actor sounded constipated the whole time. Everyone was made out to be a pimp. Seriously. Woke up at 7:27
P.M. Horrible nightmare. Ordered a pizza. 7:58, doorbell wrung. Pizza is 1 minute late. Opened the door. Russel Wakefield, 3 brothers, all older and in the army. Holding my pizza. He tried to
make a whiny little excuse starting with, "Here's your--" Don't want to know what else of mine he has. Broke his fingers. Took the pizza and slammed the door. Bit into the pizza... There is no
sugarrrrrrrrrr. IIIIIIIIII NEEEEEEEEED SUUUUUUGAAAAR!!!! LOOKED AROUND! NO SUGAR! HAD TO BE SOME AROUND SOMEWHERE! FOUND A SUGAR PACKET! MMMMMMMMMMM!!!!
SO SWEET!! ACH! SUGAR Coma...
(Crime was highest that night. Churches were burned to the ground, children were kidnapped, the Jonas Brothers had a concert in the city. I guess the world really is better off with homicidal maniacs on the loose.)