A/N- Did you know that "rex" means "king" in Latin? So a Tyrannosaurus-Rex is KING OF THE DINOASAURS. MY MIND WAS BLOWN.

Random: when I was five or something, I really, really wanted to be a spy, so I dressed up as one. My parents were able to snap a picture of me, and years later, I came across it and laughed crazily, so I put it on Facebook. Everyone commented on how cute I was, except for one friend. He said: "Okay, everyone is saying that this is really cute. I'm going to walk a different path and say that i think it is creepy. Imagine walking by your house and there's this little creeper kid crouching down watching you with a big smile on her face. Creeper."

I posted the picture in my profile; is it that creepy? (I think I agree with him. I would be totally freaked if I saw a kid doing that.) I'll delete the picture in a week or so.

Reviewer of the Week:

mebeemmy: How's he supposed to tell Max? She'll think it was one of these really annoying jokes when the punchline's always 'your mom'...

Max: Who is the enemy?
Fang: Your mom.
Max: -whacks Fang-

Comment of the Week:

A teacher, about Taylor Lautner: Is it weird that I'm attracted to a seventeen-year-old?

January 16th, 2010

Dear Diary,

READ THIS, FANG, READ THIS.

(You'll understand later. Just read it, okay?)

Alright. Let me say it now so I can get it over with: Dr. M is the biggest Bitch Queen ever. Haha, Bitch Queen totally reminded me of Dairy Queen, but less delicious.

Damn it, I can't even last one sentence without get sidetracked.

Okay. I can do this. But really, this is probably the most important entry of my life, and that sucks more than a blowfish. Do blowfish even suck, or do they blow? (GODDAMN IT KEEP ON TRACK FANG.)

You won't believe what just happened. It might seem confusing and messed and totally craptastic, but this is my life. And the real irony of the situation is that it all comes back to you, Diary. You're the way out of this mess.

It's ten o'clock. I only have two hours to write this before everything disappears.

Let's start from right where the last entry left off, shall we?

Obviously, I couldn't fall asleep last night, because I was more awake then at the time I was at the midnight opening of New Moon. Instead, I went over and over the evidence I had against Dr. M. I need to write this down – you'll see why later, Diary. (I totally realize I'm acting all mysterious, but mysterious guys are hot, right?)

As for the evidence, I need to rifle through past entries to prove my point. The evidence…the truth… it's been in you the whole time, Diary.

First: We never told Dr. M why we were going to Canada. I quote from my January fifteenth entry:

"For example, you know that Canada has nothing to do with Itex's funds." She paused and looked thoughtful. "So at least you've removed that variable."

I even wrote that she paused. She realized her mistake and tried to cover it. But no, Detective Fang is on her case!

Second: She and Jeb got married so, so quickly. They got engaged over a one-month time span, too. I quote from November third:

Dr. M smiled and clung onto Jeb a little tighter. There was something very, very wrong: they were too close and they were smiling too much. Their expressions on their faces looked almost… sheepish. Dr. M eventually broke the strange silence. "We're getting married," Dr. M said.

See? Again, I noticed that they both looked sheepish. Jeb has got to be connected with Itex, and Dr. M is using him to get to whatever she wants. That bitch be crazy. (Say that last line while doing a Z-snap. You'll feel cool. Trust me.)

Third: Dr. M has been a total witch before she got married, but especially towards me. From December nineteenth:

You know, Dr. M would be a fantastic dictator. Like, Dictator of Hell or something. Honestly, she was taking this wedding thing way too far. It was sort of freaky, actually. Yesterday I was addressing envelopes, and I had to get up to go to the bathroom, and she snapped, "Where do you think you're going?"

There's something that I'm not supposed to find, and it's in the house. She was totally micromanaging our lives. Hell, if she wasn't getting married, I would've punched her in the face.

Fourth: Dr. M was against me before she got engaged to Jeb. Remember when Agnes went all crazy? From September thirtieth, right after I spazzed at Agnes for hitting on me:

"What do you mean, not necessary?" Dr. M asked, shocked. Her hands were pressed under the table, obviously not understanding how Agnes could let me off the hook for my outburst. "He should pay for that!"

I'm thinking that there's something under the table, and I bet it's got to do with controlling Agnes. Was it a coincidence Agnes was only shooting at me? (Unless, perhaps, she's just crazy and ornery and horny. That's a possibility, too.)

Fifth: I've commented a bunch of times that Dr. M has bitten back her words. For example, on Christmas, when Iggy and I went a little crazy with the bakon vodka (to say the least):

Dr. M nearly snarled at us. "Take a cold shower. Drink coffee. Dance. Do whatever the hell you want, but sober up, and do it fast. You'll get and exchange your gifts tomorrow."

I knew for a fact that time was the only thing that could sober someone up, but I decided to shut up. Dr. M looked like she wanted to add something, but she spun out of the room so quickly I barely saw her blink.

I bet she wanted to give up her act right then and there, but she was able to hold it back. Skillz. (And yeah, "skills" needs to be written with a z because it looks hardcore that way.)

Sixth: This one might be a little far-fetched, but think about it. From yesterday:

"You're home!" Dr. M had just pulled out a rack of a dozen chocolate cupcakes from the oven.

Why make a dozen cupcakes for three people? It's as if she knew the second we would be home and tried to influence us. The cupcakes always tell the truth!

Seventh: She bought us sunglasses when we went off to California. From October tenth:

Suddenly, Dr. M's hands flew to her mouth. "Oh! I almost forgot!" She rummaged around in a cloth bag that was sitting on the couch. She fished out six pairs of sunglasses and tossed a pair to each of us.

"I bought these for you guys," she said. Was she tearing up a bit? Oh, this could get awkward. "It's really sunny up in the sky, and I don't want your eyes to hurt."

Remember how I became possessed just after we left the house? And how when someone is possessed, their eyes become only black? By giving me sunglasses, no one could tell I was possessed. Now that was a brilliant-evil-genius move, I'll admit it.

Eighth: Adults always screw us over. End of story.

So there we go.

That's it.

Now, all I needed to do is go tell Max that her Mom is the person we've been trying to hunt down (and presumably kill) from day one. Oh, that'll go over like sparkles and rainbows, I just know it.

But then I made the biggest mistake of my life.

Not even a funny mistake, like plugging "London" into a GPS and ending up in Ontario instead of England.

But I knew that Max would hate me forever if I falsely accused her Mom. So I did the stupidest thing ever: I decided to approach Dr. M. Alone.

Dun dun dun dunnnnnn. (That was supposed to be Beethoven's 5th Symphony, in case you couldn't tell.)

Everyone else in the house – even Total and Ella's dog, whatever its name was – had decided to spend the night in Phoenix since there was a huge outdoor concert going on. Dr. M said she had too much work to go, and I… well, I needed time to accost her.

"Are you sure you don't want to come?" Max asked as she zipped up her jacket. "It's going to be great, and its outdoors, which is even better."

"I just need to do something," I replied, smiling softly. "Have a good time, okay? And be careful. I can't save your ass from back here."

She shot me a glare and laughed as she walked down the steps.

I sighed and shut my eyes. This was it. It was a risky move, talking to Dr. M on my own, but I had to be one-hundred-percent sure that Dr. M was the bad guy. She was sitting innocently at the table, going over some paperwork.

Looking back on the moment, I should have killed her then.

Huh, that was weird. I just had a total random craving for chocolate. Mmm… I'm starving, I missed dinner… ugh, I'm doing it again!

But naturally, I didn't kill her, since the state of Arizona looks down on killing people for no reason. Instead, I sat down opposite her and folded my hands on the table. She looked up from her work and smiled. "Want some?" She pushed a plate of warm, chewy chocolate chip cookies in front of me.

I was stuck with a horrible decision.

Interrogate her…

Cookies…

Question her…

Cookies…

Attack her…

Cookies…

"Is there anything wrong?" she asked, and her voice and mannerisms were perfectly calm, controlled, and normal. I remember thinking that I would probably never see her like this again, and part of me didn't want to give up my mother figure. It would be so easy, to just live out my last months happily, instead of fighting and grasping and still dying-

But no.

"With all due respect," I said, smiling sweetly, "Fuck off."

Snap that.

"Language!" she barked before her eyes instantly narrowed. She realized what she was doing, and her eyes widened again, and she blinked a lot. "What are you talking about?"

I started to pick at my nails. "So why are you taking Itex's money, hmm? Want to save a little money to buy your own Caribbean island? Want to get revenge on someone? The choices are endless when you're a bitch."

Haha. The choices are endless when you're a bitch. I actually really like that line.

"I don't understand," she said, and the look on her face was so convincing there was a second when my stomach dropped and I doubted myself. But then, for a split second, her mask dropped.

I got her.

"You tried to kill us," I said, leaning forward earnestly. "Your own daughter. Was that really necessary? Man, you're a perfect textbook case for people studying whack jobs, you know."

She didn't respond and stared right at me.

"I don't get it. Please, enlighten me. You're taking Itex's money, you sent us to Canada, and you're trying to kill us. Why not kill us directly? You don't want to get your hands bloody? You of all people know that bloodied hands never come clean."

She looked down at the table as if it was made of bacon. (Furniture made out of bacon? That would be awesome! You could be sitting at home watching Gossip Gi- a football game, when BAM, you're hungry, so you take a bite out of the couch! How great is that? I'm totally going to patent that.)

"And why marry Jeb?" Something occurred to me, and another puzzle piece clicked. "Max wasn't conceived through artificial insemination, was she? You said that you donated an egg and Jeb donated sperm… but no, you screwed each other, didn't you? And then you donated Max to Itex because of Jeb…"

I found her weak point – Jeb.

She snapped. It was actually kind of funny. One second, she's a Mom. The next second, she's .

"Don't talk about him!" she snarled, and the next thing I knew, she jumped across the table and tackled me to the ground.

Yes, that's right, that just happened.

For a woman who looks like she could be blown over by the wind, she certainly does pwn me pretty gosh darn well.

I figured her out right as my head snapped against the wooden floor. Dr. M must've modified her own DNA, because there was no way she could have moved so quickly and with such strength.

She straddled me and grasped my neck with her hand, strangling me. "Jeb is nothing but a bastard."

I kneed her in the chest, throwing her off of me. I launched myself at her and we both stumbled back and hit the counter. "So it is about revenge," I said, slamming her head into the cupboard with one hand. With the other hand, I clumsily reached for the cutlery drawer. (I bet IKEA never expected their kitchens to be used like this.)

Dr. M knew what I was doing. She pushed me, and I stumbled back, which gave her time to dig out a steak knife from the drawer. "But why the money?" I asked as I dropped to the floor. Her knife went whizzing over my head and clattered to the floor after hitting the wall. I kicked out my foot, catching her in the knee, and she fell.

"A magician never reveals her secrets," she said. She was too fast for me and jumped me yet again; she trapped me in exactly the same position as before. She was sitting on top of me, with one hand strangling me. "How'd you figure me out? I was good."

Um, lady, in order for me to respond, I sort of need to be able to breathe. She frowned, realizing this, and I gasped for air as her clasp lessened.

"You're good, I'm better," I said, because that's something Chuck Norris would say. I tried to throw her off of me, but her hand tightened again.

Her mouth twisted up. "Now that I think of it, I'm going to keep you alive for now." Okay, that was good. She continued talking. "You know what I'm going to do?"

I didn't respond. Well, I couldn't, since my face was turning a stylish blue.

"I can't have you crawling back to Max and telling her everything, but I can't kill you either." The question in my eyes was answered seconds later. "Do you know what lacunar amnesia is?"

Uh, duh, of course not. I flunked out of Med School.

She leaned down close to me, and for a horrible second, I thought she was going to kiss me. (Had Jeb's previous pedostache rubbed off on her?) At the last second, she turned and whispered in my ear, "It's the memory loss of a specific event."

My stomach dropped. I knew exactly what she about to do. Way to suck, Dr. M. Way to suck.

"I have the ability," she said, "to modify the very shape of your brain. With a twitch of my hand, I can modify the hippocampus of your brain…which means that you'll forget everything from the last twenty-four hours. When Max and everyone else get home, I'll explain how you had a horrible, horrible accident, and hit your head, and lost some memory… but not much, of course."

If I lost the last twenty-four hours, I would lose the time when I figured out Dr. M was evil.

She was erasing her footsteps.

Thinking back on her speech, what the hell is the word "hippocampus"? Those are two completely different words. Who was the guy to say, "Hey, let's take the words hippo and campus and put them together to mean a part of the brain!" That's like saying a kitchen appliance is called a narwhalelevator.

…Let's forget about that last paragraph, okay?

Dr. M reached back with the other hand and grasped under the table. When she pulled it back out, she was holding the same type of remote the Flock had seen at the Itex headquarters in California.

Man, she was good. But I did absently notice that I had destroyed her perfect hairdo. Oh, yeah, that totally counts as getting a hit on her.

I started to thrash about as she dialled in numbers and switched gears, but I was running out of air. "It's a shame," she said. "That this doesn't work instantaneously. Oh, look at that! It'll cut off your memory at midnight tonight. You'll instantly fall asleep and wake up tomorrow morning, thinking that it's January sixteenth, but I'll tearfully explain that you were unconscious for a whole day and I was barely able to save you."

She looked down at me pitifully. "I always knew you were the smartest out of them all."

I managed to say, "Does that mean I get some sort of flowers and chocolates as a reward? For the record, I hate dark chocolate."

She slapped me.

Next, she jerked me up and led me down the hall by my throat, which was majorly painful. As we arrived at my room, the words from my Mom clicked: Dr. M had been the ultimate betrayer so close to us all.

Max will be destroyed when she finds out.

But I still can't believe I approached Dr. M alone… It's the worst mistake I ever made. (The second worst was the time when I used Max's underwear to start a fire when we were out in the wilderness when we were ten. That was not a good day.)

Still holding me, Dr. M grabbed all of the pens, pencils, and paper in the room and threw them out into the hall, followed by her grabbing my laptop and placing it right outside my door. "I'd smash it, but it'd be impossible to explain it," she reasoned.

After carefully checking through the room – still holding me by the neck – she relaxed. "The windows are storm windows, and are locked from the outside, just so you know," she commented, smiling. "I've been predicting this. I've always been one step ahead. It's only seven o'clock now; you've got five hours before today never happened. You'll pass out instantly at midnight. Go ahead and try to get out. I'll see you in the morning!" She slammed the door shut and I heard the snap of the lock.

And then, from the opposite side of the door came the ultimate betrayal. "Max has never and will never love you!"

…Woah.

That's officially number one on the list of Top Ten Ways to Piss Fang Off. (Number two is taking my bacon away.)

She walked down the hall, laughing like a total stereotypical villain. Can't she at least be a tad bit original?

Well, then, there I was.

In my defence, I tried as hard as possible to break out of the room. For hours I smashed myself against the window and door, but neither gave way. I even gave a little thought to pulling a MacGyver and digging my way out, but that was impossible. There was no way out.

And that's when I remembered.

Dr. M doesn't know about you, Diary. No one does, except for Max, and even she's probably forgotten about it.

You were her only mistake.

And that's what I've been doing for the past while. I wrote down absolutely everything in the hope that one day, I'll re-read this entry and realize that Dr. M is the bad guy.

HEY! FUTURE FANG! READ ME!

…Ha ha. Right. There's no way that's going to work. As I said in my very first entry:

You know, I'm going to promise to myself right now that under no circumstances am I going to re-read this diary. I don't want to read about how much of a freak I am.

I screwed myself over from the very beginning.

But then again, you might be able to save the day, Diary. Maybe if something comes over me and I feel like I just have to read this entry, then we can apprehend her… and save my life while we're at it.

You know, it also really sucks that I'm going to forget about my bacon-furniture idea. Damn it. I could've been a millionaire…

There's no other way to leave myself a message; I can't rip a piece of paper out of you and hide it somewhere because Dr. M is sure to search the room thoroughly. But there's no way she would find a reason to search through an average book.

It's 11:59. I have one minute.

I'll say goodbye now, and hide you away on the shelf.

All I have to do now is remember.

-Fang