A/N: So I found out about this interesting little thing called Zutara Week. I thought it would be fun, even though I don't usually ship Zutara. Problem is, it's Friday already...

So I decided to try to do things a little differently. This will be a Zutara story taking place within one week, each day reflecting one theme. Some chapters might be far longer than others, given the nature of the story. And who can resist a meddling Sokka?

Disclaimer: Don't own. Review anyway?

JULY 7 - Denim

I have begun this log to watch the movements of a slimeball. I'm sure you know who I'm talking about – that egotistical, stupid, imbecilic, whiney, sin-against-nature-through-his-sheer-whiney-stupidity emo kid Zuko. I have enclosed a picture for reference, painstakingly drawn for complete accuracy, down to the finger lodged in his left nostril.

Why now, you may ask? Simple. Because as of now, I have determined "Subject A" a threat to none other than my sister (Subject A being the aforementioned slimeball). We shall continue to call him Subject A, and refer to said sister as Object Blue. Not that my sister is an object. I respect the rights of women. (That's for you, Katara, if you're reading this highly professional, secret report. Which you shouldn't be.) "Object" is just a fancy classification term you may or may not know.

You may have noted the title of today's entry. I have decided to give each day a code word so as to clarify the growing danger that is dangerously presenting itself dangerously. With ever-increasing danger. Each code word will reflect the events of the day in question, starting with today – Denim.

On this fine early evening, I was driving to pick Object Blue up from her first day of summer camp. Given that Object Blue is much too old for this certain camp, it can be deduced that she has volunteered as a camp counselor for either money or community service hours, or as the Object would put it, "to help out." As this detective is suspicious of anyone with the last motive, let us assume it is one of the former reasons.

Object Blue surprised me with her aura of terrifying temper as she clambered into the passenger seat of my suave vehicle, slamming the door with tremendous force and sinking back onto the patent leather seats. She then proceeded to rave like one gone mad.

"I can't believe that sexist…sexist pig!" she screamed, carrying on about some idiot who had been watching her lower regions the entire time the two of them had been playing a mandatory game of hide-and-seek with the younglings. Naturally this concerned me, but at the time I was too busy looking for a way to work in a perfectly-placed wisecrack about the unlikelihood of the situation to show it.

She then proceeded in a fashion that made it clear that she was not actually certain that he had been looking at her in such a way, but the positioning of his hiding place in a tree had given him the perfect view of her protruding buttocks as she hid behind the nearby cafeteria. I would have laughed (not at the situation, of course. I would pummel him. It was her backtracking that was funny) if it weren't for the sudden mention of the offender's name – Zuko. Subject A.

And with that, the game began.

I nearly backed my sleek black car into a tree at the revelation as I made my rather violent thoughts known. She hastily corrected me, however, and said that it was not Subject A who had been watching her – it had been Jet, whom I am fairly certain she has had a crush on for years. Well, not anymore. Subject A had gone by at the moment, hesitated (in a very egotistical way) and reluctantly hinted that Jet was watching her. This was how Object Blue told the story, but I am fairly certain that it was all part of Subject A's evil plot to either gain her trust or watch her try to beat up on Jet. Which would have been funny.

Either way, I shall be informing Object Blue to not wear such short jean shorts on any occasion.

And what was Subject A doing at a summer camp? This requires further observation, and possible hilarity.

Sokka, who are you trying to kid? For the last time, you are not a secret agent. And what's with all that stuff about your car? You drive Dad's old pick-up truck…