Rajah: Wow, two entries in one night! Butter our butts and call us butter!

Sarah: That made no sense. What the heck are you saying, we need to have greasy butts so we can roll easily?

Rajah: (laughing hysterically) I meant "Butter our butts and call us biscuits!" Because… we're on a roll.

Sarah: I don't get it.

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Dear Diary,

I did it. I confronted Mark about The Camera… I don't even know what to say, really. The whole experience has left me emotionally drained. It was kind of like... an episode of Laguna Beach on steriods.

Well, I suppose I'll just start at the beginning.

I found my old Easy-Bake oven. Those things are AMAZING, that little battery cooks such fantastic food, it defies every law of physics… and I don't even know any laws of physics… or do I? (dundundun)

So, anyway, the Easy-Bake. I named her Betty Bottom Bought Some Bitter Butter. Great name, huh? Well, I call her Betty for short.

Anyway, I got all jazzed up about this glorious find and I ran across the loft to find Mark.

"MARKMARKMARK!!!! OMG, MARK!" I screamed like I was dying.

He was in the main room, winding his scarf slowly around his neck. (FUCKING PYTHON!) He looked up, startled. "What? What's wrong, Roger? Are you alright?"

"NO I'M NOT ALRIGHT!"

He looked really worried.

"I'M BETTER THAN ALRIGHT! LOOK…!" And I held Betty high. "I FOUND BETTY!"

There was a moment of pure silence. I assume Mark was trying to remember who Betty was, perhaps searching the loft for a woman, but then his eyes fell upon the Easy-Bake oven in my arms and I saw recognition flash through his mind.

He knows Betty, I mean back in the day, we were inseparable!

Mark, Collins, Betty and I used to make delicious concoctions together all the time. Ah, I remember Collins' special brownies… yeah man. Those were good.

So, Mark stared at Betty for a minute then looked up at me. "You know, we have a hot plate now."

"MARK!" I shrieked. "How can you replace Betty with Niccolo? He's Italian, I mean… how can you form a bond with him, he can't speak English!"

He shook his head. "Roger… Betty doesn't speak English either. Betty doesn't even speak!"

I just looked at him like he was retarded, because he kind of was missing something huge. "You just don't get it, Mark… befriend Betty and Niccolo for real, and they'll share their secrets."

He gave me that look I so loathe, the one that looks like he's saying, What the hell, Roger, you idiot!

I tried to ignore that. He does it often enough for me to turn a blind eye to it.

"Anyway…" I began with a breath. "Mark, come on, let's bake some brownies! It'll be so much fun, just like we used to do….remember? They don't have to be special brownies, even! Come on!"

His eyebrows twitched nervously. "Uh… I was just leaving."

"WHAT COULD BE MORE IMPORTANT THAN BETTY AND AN AFTERNOON OF BROWNIE-BAKING GOODNESS?" Was my retort.

"I was actually… um, going to film for a bit."

Of course. I should have seen it coming. But you know what? Something pushed me over the edge. Rage gathered within me and I dropped Betty, breathing deeply and glaring at Mark like I could shoot daggers with my eyes.

If only I could.

He backed up a little. He looked kind of scared, and his hands rose a bit, almost finding his chin.

"WHY DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO BLOW ME OFF FOR THAT STUPID CAMERA?!!! ANYTHING I TRY TO DO… LIKE, SOMETHING FOR US TO DO TOGETHER, YOU REJECT AND THEN CHOOSE THE CAMERA! YOU'RE GOING TO REPLACE ME WITH THAT PIECE OF JUNK, AREN'T YOU? THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT YOU'RE DOING! I KNOW, MARK! I'M NOT BLIND, OK? WHAT I WANT TO KNOW IS WHY!!!!!!!!!!!" It all just exploded out of me like a tidal wave.

He blinked. "Roger… are you high?"

"ARE YOU HIGH?" I shot back.

"Um….no!"

"WELL GOOD DRUGS ARE BAD!"

"Uh… Roger?"

"MARK, I AM TRYING TO BE SERIOUS HERE! LISTEN TO ME!"

"Um… I'm listening, I'm just… uh…." Mark tried to reply.

"JUST WHAT? JUST ABOUT TO LEAVE YOUR BEST FRIEND TO GO FILM WITH THAT CAMERA? BFFS, MARK! THAT'S WHAT WE'RE SUPPOSED TO BE: BFFS! WHAT DOES THAT MEAN TO YOU… BFFS….BLOWOFF FRIEND FOR SEX?"

"I'm just filming with the Camera, jeez Roger… what do you think I do with it?" Mark seemed a little overwhelmed by my outburst, yet confused and kind of offended.

"HOW SHOULD I KNOW WHAT YOU DO WITH IT? YOU SLEEP WITH THAT DAMN SCARF FOR CORN'S SAKE!"

"If this going to be another Scarf Insult, I'm leaving." Mark stated flatly.

"NO, THIS IS ABOUT ME AND YOU AND THAT STUPID CAMERA… and HOW IT IS TEARING US APART!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Collins has told me all about what you're doing, Mark." I told him seriously.

"What did he tell you?" Mark asked, looking almost worried.

"Terrible, terrible things…" I gulped. "He said… that you… film HOMELESS PEOPLE!"

"Collins doesn't know shit about what I'm doing, Roger. I'm making a documentary."

What the hell is a documentary? "No, Mark, actually, Collins DOES know shit. He knows how to be a true friend and actually spend time with me, instead of BLOWING ME OFF FOR A STUPID INANIMATE OBJECT!"

"Ummm…. ok…." Mark began.

"He cares about real friendships, and when he told me what he knew about this 'documentary' thing, he was actually trying to help me, like a GOOD friend."

"Obviously, this isn't about Collins, Roger… so what are you getting at?" He was still a bit lost.

"It's like… I don't know you anymore." I sobbed. "Mark, you're breaking my heart! You're going down a path I can't follow!"

He looked even more puzzled and half-concerned. "Because of… my camera?"

"BECAUSE OF WHAT YOU DO WITH THE CAMERA AND WHAT YOU DON'T DO WITH ME! BECAUSE YOU NEVER DO A DAMN THING WITH ME ANYMORE! MARKROGER TIME IS GONE! FREAKING GONE!" I was in hysterics.

He stared.

"STOP RIGHT NOW, MARK! STOP FILMING AND COME OVER HERE… WE'LL MAKE BROWNIES WITH BETTY AND BE HAPPY."

"Um…" Mark looked at the floor. "Roger, we…uhh… we can't really make brownies. I mean, I'd love to, but… Betty's in pieces, shattered on the floor."

It took me a moment to understand. "Whatchutalkin'bout, Willis?" And my eyes traveled to the floor, where Betty lay from when I dropped her, obviously broken beyond repair.

"BETTY!" I screamed, and fell to my knees beside the ruins. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

(A.N.: Wow, that goes on for awhile...)

So after that little episode, I went into the bathroom, you know to clean my face up… and stuff. I came out, and simply told Mark calmly that I wanted him to spend more time with me and less time with Cammy the Camera.

"Ok, Roger… I can do that." Mark replied honestly. "Why didn't you just say that in the first place instead of… well, whatever it is that you did?"

"WE SHOULD BURY BETTY!" I screamed suddenly and unexpectedly, causing Mark to do the frilled lizard thing.

I patted his back. "Yay, this can be something we can do together!"

"Um… Roger?" He said slowly. "We don't have like… a yard or anything, remember?"

I paused in thought.

"Maybe it's time for Betty to go to the Great Trash Heap in the Sky."

"NO!" I yelled. "MARK! This is BETTY we're talking about here!"

"Um… I know." Mark said simply.

"YOU CAN'T THROW BETTY AWAY!" I told him, spitting all over his face.

"Well… since we can't bury her… we can... turn her into a flower pot!" He suggested cheerfully.

Wow, was that a random suggestion or what? But it was… brilliant. I grabbed that little albino and hugged him. "YOU'RE AMAZING, MARK!"

"Thanks?" He said, as I cut off his breathing.

So, we went out and bought a fern. And some dirt.

And the moral of the story is: One man's broken Betty is another man's flowerpot.

Love you forever and ever,

Roger Elizabeth Davis