It's me, Iggy, the Igster, Ig, young Iggles Mcgee... you get the picture. I'm here to tell you about my life my love and all the rest of the stuff Fang dared me to write about after he found me reading his diary (way more funny than his blog, let me tell ya).
I guess you're thinking WHAT THE HELL? A blind guy writing his autobiog? How the heck does that work? What are his descriptions gonna be like? "The guy smelled ugly"? Spare me! but please control yourself, you might actually offend someone. Anyway I'll have you know my descriptions are sharper than Max's insults. Read this and try to disagree:
Max: Her voice is sorta husky but not-dude! You seriously need to quit on the cigs!-type husky. She's tough so... she probably looks sort of guyish. But then again Fang has the hots for her so maybe its just a vasard... fassard... facard... act. (or Fang is bi, either works. Must... resist... golden... teasing... opportunity...). Brown and blonde streaky hair. (I took the liberty of poking around while everyone was sleeping, to make use of my supah powah! I thought asking "Can I touch you" sounded sorta pervy. I'm such a gentleman I know :D!). Generally reeks but I win on any contest of the funk. I wouldn't be so sure if I were you,Ig.
Fang: Emo however much he denies it. Likes to write secret diaries in fluffy pink notepads as a hobby. Also blogs to detract attention from the diary. His favourite colour is black, like his hair. Olive skin. The only thing in his pack apart from the diary and the laptop is a portable shower and a bottle of perfume (cause he smells like a girl). Voice always sounds calm but starts to choke when he says more than three words. (eg. "Iggy, you stink." easy. "Max I really l-l-l-gack-cough-argh!" difficult.) Shut up, Iggy!
Nudge: The colour of coffee, which is nice. Shame of the verbal diarrhoea. I haven't bothered to note what her voice sounds like cause it would actually destroy my ears. Kind but far too fond of baths.("Ig, you need a bath or you'll end up stinking more than that landfill rubbish tip we flew over the other day and that smelled really bad and nobody likes people that stink that much I'm sure Ella would like you much more if you smelt like a human instead of a rat and they live in sewers you know ooooh do you remember when we slept in that weird sewer town place that was awful I thought I'd never get the smell out of my beautiful hair...") Oh yeah. She's also super vain. I don't get fashion, when you see catwalk shows, all the models look like multicolour anorexic dinosaurs, don't you agree? No I don't, actually.
Angel: Has a very sweet voice, but that just makes it more creepy when you listen to what she's saying. It's like that horror movie about a doll that murders people. It's always more scary that something that seems so cute can be so bad. She's understanding though (well she would seeing as she can read minds) and she sends me reassuring thoughts when I'm feeling down and helpless. Her hair is a creamy blond and floofy and I'm sure she looks just as beautiful as an angel. Angel! Give me back my pen!
The Gasman: The name says it all. I say Max smells bad, I say I stink to high heaven but Gazzy... He's usually fresh enough so if you don't know him, witnessing one of his explosions could be the worst shock of your life. WARNING: STAY AWAY FROM REAR END. Has the same puff-ball blonde hair as Angel Hey! and shares my passion for explosives (though I don't much like his natural kind). Supah-powah: methane mushroom of morte. And I'm proud of it!
Me: Handsome as a donkey's butt. Intelligent to anyone who hasn't read any of the above. Deadly as a chihuahua I've ALWAYS wanted one of those, they're so sweeeeeet and maybe I could carry it around... SHUT UP!
Fine I give up! But next time I'm not gonna let any of you get your hands on my precious pen. You hear me!
Sorry I haven't written for so long, but Gazzy stole my pen, Max stole my notebook, Angel stole the pen and the notebook from THEM and Nudge spilt perfume it all. Fang kept badgering me to use his spare pink and fluffy book (never EVER, will you see me with that). When we landed back down at the Martinez household Ella bought me a fancy leather-bound 500 page thing. I bet THAT'S gonna stay pristine $20 condition...
That was where my first quest begins: my quest to win Ella, propose and have a pagan fire ceremony instead of a wedding. With fireworks. And ghost stories. If that isn't romantic, what is?
So, in my first attempt to impress her, I have set up a fire works display that will go off outside her bedroom window. Then she will fall in love with the pyromaniac that is I! So here's the plan:
Distract everyone else and then invite Ella upstairs. Position at her bedroom window. Press the detonator button.
Romantic touch: wrap warm and cozy arm around her shoulders as the first beautiful spark of hellfire erupts into the night to let her take in my manly scent.
Boast that it was no trouble making a our names in fireworks while hiding burn-marks, blisters and callouses on hands.
She is overwhelmed by gratitiude and suddenly sees how brilliant I am. Our whole life together flashes before her eyes; she flings herself at me.: deploy best kissing tactics.
Apologize to Dr M for burning a hole in her house.
Nothing can go wrong! HEAR MY EVIL LAUGHTER, PEOPLE!
So, er... yeah... about my last entry... you know the part where I said that nothing could go wrong? Well, I accidentally cut out the small print saying that these things COULD go wrong regardless:
Angel was using the bathroom so Fang was pouting in Ella's bedroom mirror when I brought her up. (You can hear it when he smacks his lips that much).
Fang didn't leave during the whole time and I swear I hears him chuckling to himself.
Ella didn't appreciate my manly smell and went out of her way to point out the sweat marks on my otherwise pristine crisp white shirt (why not dress up for your sweetheart?). In my opinion, as long as they take up less than half the area of your shirt, sweat marks rule!
Gazzy was making fantastical fart fanfares outside the door (no coincidence, I swear).
Nudge's eyeliner pencil rolled under the door, and she had to disturb our romantic environment by coming to fetch it and instantly bursting into a speech about how much she luuurves Ella's room. Ella joined in and it turned into a never ending discussion about fashionable decorating.
I'd just pressed the detonator and my little ferocious jewels of destruction were arranging themselves when I heard a great whoosh; Max had done a hyper-drive swoop past the window. Then she pressed her face up against the glass, eager to get her fill awed praise from MY girl on MY night. By the time she moved her fat self, the sparks were falling to the ground.
I left without saying a word.
Fang shouted back at me: "One for the diary, Ig!"
Oh god! Will I ever get my time, my glory, my highly successful book series named after me? Isn't blindness enough punishment for my sins? Maybe the only way I can get everyone of my back is with serial murder...heh, heh, heh...