Disclaimer: I finished the story, I think I deserve not to write a funny disclaimer for this chapter/epilogue/thing.

Author's Note: My mom found this and read it... and my dad read all the disclaimers (he's not exactly an avid reader...). That's scary. And my mom reviewed my one and only 'After Hamelin' fic. Yeah, she's Chubby Warrior. Well, I'd like to dedicate this chapter to my mom, for reviewing and just plain making me feel good about my writing! Thanks, Mom!

Anyway... 'Tis almost finished. I've got more than ΒΌ of 100 reviews! Thanks to you reviewers! I love you all to bits!

And now... **drum roll** THE LAST CHAPTER!

Well, it's actually the epilogue. But an epilogue is the last chapter. So ha.

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Epilogue

Dear Diary,

Curse whoever said "Hey, instead of having women wear pants, we'll just wrap a piece of cloth around their waists and call it a skirt! Who cares if it makes it impossible to run, it'll be fashionable anyway!"

Shall never wear a skirt again. Ever. If I do, I will die of my severe stupidity. Skirts are, along with corsets, the worst articles of clothing ever invented, created, and worn.

Had to wear a skirt today. Evil, evil, evil washing machine. Or maybe it was my evil, evil, evil self. I really should have done the laundry, and then I would have a clean pair of pants to wear instead of this skirt. Ugh. I can't run, people can see my underwear, (why they would want to see MY underwear, of all the underwear to choose from, I do not know) and I can't sit properly. Not to mention that people are staring at me because I NEVER wear skirts. They just never leave me alone!

No, wait, I'm a nerd, so they never leave me alone, anyway. At least it (their not leaving me alone-ness, I mean) wouldn't be because I was wearing this ACCURSED SKIRT! Why couldn't skirts be for men, instead? Then I would only wear pants and everything would be wonderful. Except the fact that I had no pants today, so then, with skirts absent, I'd have nothing to wear on my lower half, so I'd either have to wear my mom's pants of a pair of my own pants, but they'd be dirty. Maybe, if men wore skirts and women wore pants, I'd actually do my laundry, and then this problem would never have existed in the first place.

On a happier note, Nora's got her dear Rickums back again. Ha. If she ever calls him that, I'll wet my pants (argh... skirt, actually) with glee. Of course, she calls him Ricky. Maybe it's because I refer to him as 'dear Rickums' too much. Well, anyway, he came back. She never told me, of course, but I could tell. Ellie had just been telling me that she had indigestion from eating too much cheese and really expressing herself using emoticons, (ah, the joys of instant messaging) which makes me question her intelligence, if she knows she's lactose intolerant. Back to the point, she logged off for awhile, then came back on later, and she said she felt better than ever, even though, the other times she had eaten that much cheese, she was in a bad mood for a few weeks after.

Her parents must be cheese fiends, because she's an only child and not supposed to have that much cheese. I mean, honestly, she was telling me how she had Gouda, mozzarella, and cheddar. No one I know has that much cheese!

Am I getting off-topic? Oh, right... I am. So, Ricky's back. About time, too, Nora's been going on about falling in love and all that junk. She can go on for hours about the time they kissed, but I was there, so I can describe it, too, but it only takes a few sentences at most. But, no, Nora describes the way he smelled, the exact colour his eyes were, including every speckle of imperfection (and she accused me of liking him for noticing their colour!). But that's nothing compared to his hair. I think that Nora feels it's her duty to report to us the condition, position, and location of every hair on his head. "One section was frizzier than the rest, sticking out more to the right, though it was on the left side of his head..." Sheesh. Maybe she'll be able to talk to him about that from now on. Let us hope so, or I will die of boredom, and not skirt-wearing or stupidity, which would allow myself to be wearing a skirt.

Right, before I forget, I'd better write this down. Nora wants that little... thing I wrote about the "eye of the beholder". Apparently, she's going to use it as a prologue to her story she's writing out of boredom. What's she going to call it again? Oh, yeah. "Sense and Sanity". What a name. It's going to be about her and Ricky, no doubt, but I still don't get the title. Nora is anything but sensible (remember that she was the one who was complaining about indigestion from eating too much cheese, although she KNOWS she's lactose intolerant.) but she says that Ricky kind of has an obsession with his sanity. He's got paranoia or something. I think he's just got a paranoid personality disorder, since he didn't seem to be delusional or anything. Still, I think she's got to change the title around a bit. Why not call it, "My Big Tall Juvenile Delinquent Boyfriend"? Okay, okay, "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" didn't deserve that sort of title- mutilation, but neither did Jane Austen's books. After all, Nora's a big Jane Austen fan, you think she'd show a bit more respect to her. Well, I'm not Nora, so I can't stop her. It also helps that I'm in a different country.

Once again, Nora is using all sorts of emoticons I didn't know existed. So, she's finally admitting to what happened. Nope, sorry. She's going on about Mr. Darcy. Same thing, though. "Mr. Darcy" is what she calls Ricky when she doesn't want anyone to know she's talking about him. A codeword, if you will. She has no clue how obvious it is. Oh well, I'm not going to tell her, it would take all the fun out of typing to her.

Well, I'm about to fall asleep. Amazingly, Nora's still awake. No wonder why, though. "Mr. Darcy" did just come back. I still can't believe he actually quoted Mr. Darcy to get Nora to forgive him. Guess he really likes her.

Okay! I'm going to bed this time, no more writing!

G'night.

-Anne

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Tada! It's all over, folks. Be happy. Now, I'll finally get off my butt and finish 'Broken Hands and Withered Souls'! Yay!

I might do a sequel. I have one all planned out, but I'm rewriting my plan. It got kind of Mary Sue-ish and cheesy at one point. And it won't be about Zigzag! It'll be about other stuff, which includes: culture clash, (I think that's what it's called...) misunderstandings, unrequited love, and discrimination. And, now, to the shout outs we all know and love.

Celestra- Yay, another chai-lover! LOL. I knew you liked Mary Lou, because in your review of my story about Kate and Sam, 'I Can Fix That', you said 'But then again, I'm the person who thinks Mary Lou is awesome and just under-appreciated.' And at Willa's Holes Groupie, you said the same thing. I'm Bookworm, by the way. Yep. Thanks for reviewing and have some chai, my fellow chai-lover! (The fact that someone else knows what chai is makes me hyper...)

Shae Elven Heart- Whoa, you've got a Ziggy plushie? I want one! My story made you cry? Aw, thanks a bunch! **hugs you** I advertised your website up there, see? Anyway, there's that chapter you wanted to see, up a little farther! Thanks for reviewing!

Softish- Hey, you tried. You're only one off, right? And, yeah, I'm pyrophobic. Sad, ain't it? (Actually, I think the real word is 'arsonphobic' or something, but I'm too lazy to look it up.) Everyone's a pyromaniac nowadays, my friends, people I don't know, Zigzag, and even people on the Internet. The longest review you've ever written? I am proud! And you probably don't suck at writing, just look at that review! It's beautiful! Thanks a whole lot for your reviews, they made me happy!

Ghosts-girl23- Thanks for reviewing and kill all smelly fish that walk!

And to anyone else who might have read this and not reviewed: Thanks for taking the time to read this, and, no matter if you think this story is a pile of dung or actually pretty good, have a nice life!