Randy's Thoughts Chapter 24

Journal Entry for Saturday January 10, 1998

Well, I must admit, I feel much better than I did when I wrote the last journal entry.

Oh! That reminds me. I was going to rant on how idiotic the police can be at certain times. (These times would be anywhere between 12:01 in the morning to 12:01 the next morning and so on).

I wrote that they had to exhume my dad's body to do some tests. Well, the person mom talked with, who is the person who told us these damn tests needed to be done in the first place, doesn't even know what the hell the tests need to be done for!

God life is just such a headache sometimes any more.

Thank God I'm not going to school this year. I don't think I could take all of the other idiots. And I'm not just talking about kids here. Oh no, about a good 90 of the teachers at Lakeside High don't even know enough to have any business teaching what they teach. That's the good thing about learning from Wilson. He knows everything anyone could ever need to know.

I mean, he's even teaching me Latin now. (My only options at the high school are Spanish and French. One is for people who are too lazy to try to learn anything else, and the other is for all the romancers). Not that I'm saying that if your native language is Spanish or French your lazy or super romantic.

I've always wanted to learn either Latin or German. Or both. I just think it's cool to learn Latin, since that's a dead language. And German just sounds neat. I mean, you could be seducing somebody, and it sounds like your cussing them out.

I talked with my damn psychiatrist, and he says that I have to see him at least four more times, because that's how many sessions are left on the plan that mom chose at the beginning of all this, way back in September.

You know, I just realized something, and I know this sounds absolutely insane, and it sounds like it should be something that would be impossible for me to forget, but I just realized that in less than a month (February 9th) I am going to turn 16.

Why did I have to think of that? Dad promised me a long time ago (like nine or ten years ago) than when I turned sixteen, he would have some kind of special surprise for me.

I know that it has been over five months now, but I still sometimes lie awake at night and just wonder "Why God, why did it have to be my dad?"

Maybe God just needed some entertainment up there. Or maybe He needed a taste tester for Polish food. I hope He didn't need more power, otherwise there may not be a heaven when I die. Can we all say "KABOOM!"?

I did get the best news I've had in a long time the other day. Lauren came by and asked if I would be alright with us dating again. Of course I said yes. I'd have to have a brain tumor the size of New Mexico not to say yes. I've hidden my aphrodisiacal chocolate some place down in the basement. (I'm not going to say where), and I've decided I'm going to save it for my honeymoon with (hopefully!) Lauren. If not with Lauren, then I'll save it for my honeymoon with whoever I may wind up marrying.

Maybe my life is starting to fall back into place. I haven't felt this good after writing a journal entry since...actually, I don't think I've ever felt this good after writing a journal entry.

Or it could be the fact that I'm lis

Dammit anyways! I thought my nose was done bleeding. I am not going to be happy if mom walks in and sees me sitting in the living room, bleeding from my nose. I really hope we don't have to do that stupid surgery, that cauterizing or whatever it's called.

- Randy

A/N: Poor Randy! I know how he feels about the nosebleeds.

Well, I don't have too much to say, other than to say I would like to see Tim Taylor power up something and blow up heaven. (Anybody else, I'd doubt that it could be done, but Tim, yeah, I think he could do it. After all, he's the Toolman! He can do anything!)

Please R&R if you want to see how many chapters I can write for this story (without the story becoming redundant or boring).

Thanks for reading, and always remember, never, ever, laugh at someone with a nosebleed, otherwise I will give you a nosebleed. (I won't really, but seriously, those things are no laughing matter).

-Yours truly, Randy "Bleeding Like a Stuck Pig" Taylor