Note from the author: Before you begin reading chapter one, this fanfic is narrated by Minerva Mink. After all, diaries are always told by a character in the story. Also, since this takes place before Animaniacs was created, there will be no other characters starring in the fic except for Minerva (even if I add another character from the story, it will be a surprise). I just want to make that clear before my PM mailbox starts filling up with hate mail asking, "Where are the other characters, especially the Warners? Put them in your story or else I'll report it!!!" My answer: No, I don't want them in it, and if you want to report my ass, go ahead; I don't give a crap.
Don't get me wrong, I like them a lot; Dot's my character of all time. Though, if you really think about it, wouldn't it be weird if the Warners knew Minerva in her teen years? I think it would. Besides, there are too many damn fanfics about the siblings, anyway (no offense to the good ones about them). I mean, hello?! There are like, twenty other unique characters from the show. Why not write about them, too? We never see fics about the Mime of Mr. Skullhead or the Hippos, or even Katie Ka-Boom.
I know they weren't popular characters on Animaniacs, and I know their personalities are hard to write because they're too "flat", but let's use our imagination here. For example, are you wondering why I'm writing about Minerva? Because (1) She's a well-known character for boyish fandom and furry art, (2) She's one of my favorite Animaniacs characters, and (3) always wondered what she was like when she was younger. Besides, I haven't seen one good story about her on this site, yet. I really hope I'm one of those people who can change that, and if I fail, well, I don't know what's going to happen after that. But I'm totally going to award myself credit for giving this a shot.
Wish me luck, and enjoy reading chapter one.
Copyrights: Minerva Mink and anything else Animaniacs related are copyright 1993-1999 to Warner Brothers Studios. The other characters and fictional places in the story are copyright 2010 to WarnerBandicoot. All rights reserved.
Date- Sunday, August 20, 1989
Time- 9:27 p.m.
Dear Diary,
My name is Minerva Simone Mink, and I just bought you with my babysitting money at the dollar store today. Bounding between your 200 creamy, pale pink pages is the red violet leather cover with nothing on the front and back. It's nice to meet you, even if you are just a book. But I think you are more than just that. Aside from the three most important people to me in the entire world, you're my best dead friend.
And what I mean by "dead", you came from a tree that used live and breathe in the woods before it was cut down to make more diaries like you. The cool thing about having you is when I get to write everything about my life, like my dirtiest secrets to my deepest thoughts, and you won't be able to tell anyone about them because, well, you can't talk (in other words, you're "dead"). I know it sounds strange about the words I'm saying. Heck, you're not the only one who thinks I'm not normal. Everybody at school thinks I'm weird because I'm not cool enough for them (I will someday, though).
My best friends sometimes think I'm weird, but they have no room to talk because they're just as weird as I am (but I love them, anyway). Even my mom thinks I'm weird (and so does the rest of the family because Mom is strange, too). As rude to you, but not to me as it sounds, I blame my mom for my bizarreness. And yet she calls me the abnormal one in the family. You know what I ask myself every time she calls me that?
I ask: "What is normal, anyway?" Seriously, what does normal mean? Do typical people have to be flawless about everything, including their grades and the people they hang out with? What if regular people only have blond hair, blue eyes, straight white teeth, and are slim like the shape of a bottle of wine? I know that's Hitler's description of normal.
Maybe everybody has their own meaning to being ordinary. I know I do. My own version of being normal has to do with three things: fame, fab, and fortune. Everything about real life should be like Hollywood stars, where everybody is so rich, they can buy whatever they want without having to live on the streets while carrying their things in a shopping cart. Where everyone is so gorgeous, everybody won't have to starve themselves or wear fifty layers of red lipstick, mascara, and blue eye shadow.
Where everybody is so famous, it wouldn't be awkward to meet everyone because they would know each other already. That's what I want my "normal" world to be. I wish it could be this way, and if it was, the world would definitely be a wonderful place to live. Well, I hear my mom about to come in and say tonight to me (the walls in my house do have ears, after all). I usually don't hide things from her, but she doesn't know that I have you.
I don't want her to know, either. I mean, what if she tries to read what I wrote? She, like some moms, is very, very nosy. Actually, the benefit of being a cartoon character is when I get to hide and take out stuff from places that are either too small to use, or they just don't plain exist. If I recall from my copy of "Cartoon Theory: The Magic of Cartoon History, Gags, and Wit" (my mom doesn't know about this book either), the author states (and I quote) that "…animated character researchers and magicians have named this act a hammer space, or the invisible pouch".
Well, I better get some sleep. It's starting to get late (well, for a school night, anyway), and Mom is about to appear in my room any second now. Good night, Diary, and sweet dreams.
Your new friend,
Minerva Mink
The white, wooden door of Minerva's bedroom slowly opens, revealing her mother, Ms. Mink. Before her mom begins to suspect anything unusual, Minerva swiftly hides her diary and purple pen under her pillow. She adjusts it so there will be no view of the two objects.
"Minerva, are you still wide awake?" Ms. Mink asks her daughter in a slightly concerned, but also irritated tone.
She dislikes the idea of Minerva staying up past her curfew, even if she is almost eighteen years old. After all, Minerva has things to do tomorrow like attending the first day of school, arriving at her debutant meeting, and babysit the next door neighbors' two-year-old boy, Skippy Squirrel. Luckily, she is cuddled up with her magenta blanket on her twin-sized bed, wearing a light blue night gown with T-shirt sleeves. If Ms. Mink catches Minerva with one pair of pajama pants or jeans, then she will send them to a Goodwill store without any if's, and's, nor but's about it.
"Pants are not to be worn by women," she once told Minerva when she saw her wear a pair of jeans she'd once borrowed from her friend, Leonore.
"Yeah-I mean yes, I am," Minerva replies, having the feeling that her mom is about to chew her out any second now.
Leaving the door open, Ms. Mink walks into her daughter's spotless bedroom and sits at the edge of her bed. "I understand that it is your fourth and final year of high school, and that it is the first time you will see your classmates since early June, but there is no excuse for staying up- "she takes her brown eyes off Minerva to glance at her elegant silver wristwatch-" thirty-three minutes past your curfew."
"I know, Mother," Minerva apologizes nervously. "And I am very sorry. I will try to go to sleep now."
"Apology accepted; however, I do not want to see this light on again," Ms. Mink says, helping her daughter tuck in bed. "Well, I will let you rest, and make sure that you are up tomorrow at six o'clock, sharp. No exceptions."
Ms. Mink stands up and heads to the door. "Good night, Minerva."
"Good night, Mother," Minerva says as her back relaxes against the bed sheets, her blanket now concealing everything except her head.
Twenty seconds after Ms. Mink flicks off the white light switch, closing the door behind her in the process, Minerva pulls her covers over to her waist. She takes her diary and her purple pen from under her pillow and situates them both into the left pocket of her nightgown. Before she decides to force her unexhausted self to sleep, she takes her pink ponytail out and unbraids her long, light blond hair. The waves the braid formed in her hair wobble loosely as she shakes her head from side to side. Minerva then rests her head against her pillow, drifting herself to sleep after three hours of deep thoughts and worries about her mother.
Well, I hoped you like Chapter One. I know it's short, but I'm in the process of writing and editing Chapter Two. I know I said I wasn't going to add other Animaniacs characters to the story, but I think Skippy will be a very interesting character (and a useful one for future references to the plot). By the way, I'm looking for an excellent Beta Reader to proof read my chapters before they're posted. If you're interested, just PM me and we'll talk about it. I don't bite (well, if you piss me off).