Hello! For those of you who have read my other stuff, be prepared for some interesting twists ahead. This one isn't epic (well...it sort of is...), nor is it fantastical (...not really...), but it is more of a character piece. It will focus on the four residents of my AC town...

Which, as you may notice, is called VFD. And all four of the residents of names related to the Snicket family. I have an obsession with A Series of Unfortunate Events. If you have read the books, you will get a lot more out of this. They aren't necessary to enjoy the story, but...yeah. A lot of allusions to the Series are in there. And they aren't hard to see, either. So, here goes...

Oh, and do I really need to remind you that I don't own Animal Crossing, or A Series of Unfortunate Events? No. But I DO for some reason need to remind you to review. Please do. If you took the time to read it, the least you can do is review it for me. Please. I beg of you.

From the commonplace book of Jacques, aka J.

30 December 2005

Queenie just said I had "questionable fashion sense", and then proceeded to give me two of the ugliest shirts I have ever seen. Am I missing something here?

No one is missing more of this than I am, I'm afraid. I simply do not understand B and K's obsession with clothing. I myself own few interesting fashions. I prefer to possess little clothing other than that which facilitates my hobby of innocuous observation. If the garment allows me to remain unseen in the shadows, then it fits my criteria for acceptable garments. K and B, on the other hand, collect these colorful abominations, regardless of their value in the practice of observation–sometimes, even in defiance of it! In fact, the basements of both of their houses are completely filled with clothing of every imaginable color and pattern! And, to make things worse, they have them perfectly ordered and arranged in such a way that makes it impossible for one to, say, search the room for a sugar bowl, a secret message in a bottle, a sack of groceries disguised as a llama, or a sugar bowl disguised as a llama, or any other suspicious items.

It is just as impossible to search the other floors of their homes without them knowing. K, for instance, insists on keeping her exotically flavored home as humid as it would be in a real exotic location, and if she spots you sweating in the middle of winter, she immediately suspects you have been in her home.

B's home is just as impenetrable. If, say, you decided to try your luck at searching for her commonplace book in her living room, I would first say, "Good luck, brave soul," and then proceed to suggest a mosquito net, a gallon jug of mosquito repellent, and sunglasses, as any adventurer that walks through her front door is bound to need all of the above. The house is filled with mosquitoes, which, according to her commonplace book–which I read after unwittingly entering her home the day after she had set the buggers free–are present to "make you feel as though you really are in the tropics". Well, if the tropics are as messy, mosquito-infested, and sugar bowl-less as her home, never buy me a train ticket!

As I write this, I am disguised as a tree, shivering in the brutal cold of the VFD winter, watching as K talks to her "friend", Daisy. As you may have noticed, I have placed the word friend in quotation marks, which–in most cases–means that the author is using a connotation for the word instead of a denotation. In this case, my connotation for the word friend is "an invisible and thoroughly nonexistent entity that lives only in the mind of K". You see, Daisy left the organization two years ago and moved out of town, citing an extremely debilitating case of fleas. K was heartbroken at her friend's departure, and exhibited her very first "arsonist" tendency by burning her friend's old house down, claiming it was a "funeral pyre". The next day, she bought Tom Nook out of flowers, planting them all in the ashes of Daisy's house. Ever since, she has visited Daisy's "grave" each and every day, talking to her friend, as if she is sitting right in front of her, possibly sweetening it with sugar from the aforementioned sugar bowl.

I only mention the sugar bowl in relation to Daisy because she was the bearer of the secret artifact up until the day she left. In the aftermath–and before K's despicable arson of Daisy's house–many secrets were taken from her house and given to the new secret keeper, whose identity is also secret. The sugar bowl, however, was not among the secrets. Though the ashes were sent to a nearby museum for analysis, they were sent back with a letter stating that, "This museum only deals in artifacts", which is a Very Frigid Declaration meaning that there was no trace of sugar among them–though it is a very rude way to reply. The Very Frigid Declaration was obviously not invented by a noble person such as myself. They were safely replaced without anyone's–especially K's–knowledge.

Oh, dear. I have just discovered that it is time for me to close this entry in my book. My observation of K will have to cease immediately, as she is currently marching towards me, her black eyes glowing like hot, hot coals of fury. I know not how she discovered my disguise, but it is time to depart before I get savagely beaten. With every step, my doom comes nearer–oh no! She's charging now, like the enraged bulls of a town called Madrid do through the streets of that town. I think perhaps it would be a good place to go for vacation. Perhaps I should get a train ticket–oh dear, now I really must go! She's screaming, "You idiot! How dare you watch me like a sick pervert! Quit stalking me, or I'll have to report you to C!"

With that threat, I suppose I should go, before I get punched–

...too late for that. Now I should see Tom Nook. I wonder if he is selling any antibiotic ointment today. With my luck, he won't get another shipment until next week. I probably bought him all out yesterday...