Volume 3
July 14, 2004
My legs smell like almonds. Doctors say when a limb smells like that, they have to remove them. Heh, at least now no one will laugh at my big feet. My skin color has turned a putrid peach. My bed is stained with sweat and dried blood. It has rained for some time. Those vampresses have left me alone for awhile. Dracula must have given them strict instructions not to mess with me. I'd just rather they kill me, so my misery can end.
July 17, 2004
I've been so weak over the past few days that I couldn't update. I've been in and out of sleep. Dracula took care of my legs, he took a blunt hacksaw and sliced them off. He stuffed cotton in my mouth and bound my arms with rope to the bed post. He managed to stop the bleeding, how, I don't know, I was in shock. He thought it would be a good jest. He undid the ropes and took my legs with him. What does he want them for? When I wasn't asleep, I was vomiting up blood and mucus. This must be a twisted form of karma. After all, the time that I ruined Bart's life, it must have been perfectly balanced to be tormented by undead creatures.
July 21, 2004
I awoke early in the night to hear a large item being scraped along the cobblestone floor. I couldn't tell what it was. I've prayed and prayed for this to be a dream. I've never thought that a prison cell in the states would feel so good; even if I had to hear Wiggum's foolishness and Cecil's rants. I even miss Bart, I miss surprising him. His look of fright, one I remembered was quite intoxicating, now I feel pathos. If I could go back in time, I would change all. I would quit working with Krusty, and never respond to Selma's letters. If all that would've been wiped clean, then I'd start working on Broadway. Now, they are dreams, my life might go with them.
??, 2004
I forgot what day it is, what's the point in trying to remember? Does the cow remember before he gets killed by the butcher? I'm basically meat. My life has flashed before my eyes. I have no idea what their plans are. My strength has slowly declined. I haven't been visited. I haven't eaten in days. I don't know what's keeping me alive, and why I'm continuing to write.
