The stupid egg was not Mello's baby, any more than the stupid redhead was his new husband. Welcome to the Wammy's class project from hell.

"Yeah, this is me. Matt. Writing a diary, filled with comedy, awkwardness, and total stupidity. It's my thoughts on absolutely everything. Life, love, Mello, and macaroni cheese. You definitely don't want to miss it." Not to be taken seriously.

I'm really not that hard to get along with. Listening to Matt talk, you'd think I was a frigging diva or something.

Only one of the unlit windows had its curtains pushed eagerly aside. Major Wammy's fluff.

The phone was going to ring in two minutes. But Matt didn't know that, and he didn't know what that phone call was going to do to his poor excuse for a life.

As far as Matt's concerned, this 'saving' bit is the worst thing to ever happen to him. When you get gunned down, you should just die, not wake up in a hospital bed months and miles later. Bloody Near never could leave well enough alone, could he?

A series of loosely connected oneshots set at Wammy's House, updated daily for the week before Christmas. Expect fluff and humor here! And Merry Christmas! MN, MM, LMN and whatever else I end up writing. Love you all!