June 12th, 1907.
I'm running out of ink.
This wasn't a problem before with my personal three bottles of varying shades of blue-black, but the guy from Parker said their pens would only work with Parker ink, and no other pen could use it due to the corrosive nature of said ink. If you ask me, I think he's trying to turn a, I turned to a local Nippon guy who could rework the pen into something more akin to my preferences.
This is important because Pop's decided to have just us males go on vacation to a tropical place, preferably somewhere already under British occupation. Without my writing utensil, I'll be forced to use a pencil. No one in my family owns a pencil sharpening device, I'm not allowed to use other's knives, and for some reason, they found it preposterous to let a child have a bayonet when it was perfectly acceptable to let the said child have at it with unlimited access to spare ammunition supposedly designated for training purposes only.
Maybe we should've moved to Canada instead, it's close to America after all. Unfortunately, Canada also counts as a British colony.
Using the very complex process to select a possible contender (Eenie Meenie Miney Mo), British Guiana seemed like the perfect place to spend a few weeks at. On the plus side, I hear they finally resolved the territory dispute thanks to Monroe.
Ack, I'm getting off-topic.
Ink. Yes, ink.
For some reason, the boys of 3rd Special Reserve thought it would be a great idea to replace my beloved ink with iron gall. Every. Single. One. Forget doing with borrowed time, I'm forced to use borrowed ink. Do those blumbers have any idea how much a spoon's worth costs?!
Perhaps I can get some more from an American retailer down in Guiana. While I'm at it, establish contact with an arms manufacturer from America. You know, for self-defense. Not for planning revenge.