Disclaimer: I don't own RHPS

A/N: So this is sort of an 'equal' to my older story Life (Not) at the Frankenstein Place. It's a diary Magenta wrote while Columbia was writing hers. I suppose it's LNATFP from Magenta's point of view... though they spend much of the story away from each other, so it isn't exactly the same. They can be read as separate stories.

You may notice Magenta call Riff 'marshmallow' and he call her 'little dragon'. I wanted them to have bizarre pet names for each other, names that nobody else hears/knows, and that's the best I could do.

Day 1 (Monday)

I've noticed that Columbia – the Master's silly Earthling pet – has started writing a diary. She claims that she wants to keep track of what day it is. This is rather pointless though I suppose it gives her something to do. Earthlings are funny!

Yesterday she asked me a funny question. It was soon after I'd painted her fingernails with gloopy, glittery, red nail polish. That stuff smelled wretched, you know.

"What sort of life is this?" she asked me.

My reply was something like: "It's a life you should be grateful for. You're lucky to have a roof over your head, if those stories you tell are true."

Speaking of which, the stories she tells of life on this pathetic planet are mad. Hopefully she's making up half of it. There are so many useless rules here.

For example, what's with the categories 'heterosexual' and 'homosexual'? I don't understand that. Back home, where things make sense, everyone's just a person dating whomever they feel like dating at that point. Here they also have racism, sexism, etc. We've got, though that's not really very significant. In the very least it gives social climbers their motive. And it makes sense. These Earthlings mock each other for things out of their control. That's like kicking somebody who fell on the floor – it's not fair!

As you've surely figured, I can't wait for us all to go home (I'm hoping to bring Columbia along). Riff doesn't let me know as much as I wish he did when it comes to our orders and all that. That's probably because he's got a higher rank (that being Lieutenant-Commander) than I. Some things can't be told to lower ranks when it comes to all this military nonsense.

Perhaps I should mention what I actually did today. That's what diary's are for.

As usual, I woke up at six AM. I think this briefly woke the Earthling. By the time I'd finished getting dressed, however, she'd clearly fallen back asleep.

After that I went to my brother's room to get him up. Since he's also something of a servant – alibi one with a military rank and a doctorate – he too must get up early.

His room is a somber place that doesn't have much furniture. If he didn't so often say he liked it that way I would've done something about it by now. At least the bed is big enough for the both of us. Not that I get to spend much time there…

So, I walked over to the bed. Then I shook his shoulders until he opened those wonderful blue eyes and glared coldly at me. I suppose he hates when someone younger than he acts all motherly, as I sort of was. Once, long ago, we'd both been woken in such a way before being sent off to school each morning.

"Good morning, marshmallow," I said, smiling at him.

Clearly quiet annoyed, he sat up. I just smiled and smiled. Soon enough he tried to kiss me… but I moved away from his bed.

"Good morning, my dear sister," he grumbled sarcastically.

"Hurry up. You've got to get working on whatever the Master's assigned you, now!"

He sighed wearily. "Why?"

Amused, I laughed. "Because the quicker you finish working the sooner you get to spend time with your dear sister."

After that I left the room. It made me sad to do so, but I needed to get on with my daily work. First I needed to find breakfast for my brother and myself. That meant some plain, freshly-made flatbread with honey. We eat that a lot back home. It's surprisingly simple to make and ingredients are quite universal. That means it almost tastes as good cooked here on Earth as when cooked at home… 'almost 'being the key word.

Once Riff had finished eating he went to work on some sort of project. Of course, I haven't the slightest idea what it is. I did learn that a 'business partner' of some kind

For everyone else's breakfast I made chocolate chip pancakes. That's a sort of pan-fried flatbread with bits of chocolate - Earth's greatest invention – in them. They're like a dessertified of the bread I usually eat. Even the Master's become a fan of them. I brought a tray of them to his room for him soon before his groupie came downstairs in search of breakfast. By the time she got to the kitchen I was back there ready to serve her.

As she ate I told her that the Master wanted to see her later.

"Okay..." was her somewhat confused reply.

"After dinner, of course. The only reason I'm mentioning it now is because I need to tell you before it slipped my mind," I explained.

I have many things to do during the day and

Columbia got a passionate kiss from me once she'd finished eating. I've gotten the impression she thinks we Transylvanians are a more sex-centered culture than we actually are. It seems that she thinks such a gesture is like a simple hug. Oh, how gullible that dear girl is!

From then until late afternoon I cleaned, read, briefly conversed with my brother, and did many other silly things. None are worth noting.

Later in the day I spent much time cooking dinner. Somebody important and scientific would be there to talk to the Master and eat with him. Riff knew more than I about all that, but couldn't tell me much. I despise not knowing things. Usually I can find out anything that happens in this household. But what happens in the lab stays in the lab.

"I wish I could say more, little dragon," Riff told me. "Though I think you like me better alive than very dead."

He'd looked very worried. Something was very odd about this 'business partner', who I never properly met. Columbia didn't understand a word he said, I think, so it's not like she could help me. Sometimes she unknowingly makes a very good spy. Yet tonight she's in the Master's room. All I got out of her before she went to sleep with him (figuratively) was that the mystery visitor had given the Master some papers. That's very useless information. When she returned from his room to sleep with me (literally) she was too tired to say anything. She wrote something in her book, at least.

It's getting late and I must stop writing. Yesterday evening I got annoyed at Columbia and that scratchy pencil she wrote with. I think I threw a pillow at her. So I've been writing using something silent to write: a small, portable computer I keep folded up in my room near my nice Transylvanian Broadcasting Company television monitor. We've got computers, a rarity on Earth, available to virtually everyone on our planet. Lucky us! Though Columbia isn't supposed to know too much about all that, so I must keep my computer a secret. That means turning it off now.

Magenta Vitus.

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