Author's Note-izzles: Feeling quite hyperactive, due to some wonderful toxins. Hello, Johnny Walker. Have you met my friend Mr. Hawaiian Punch? No? Oh, how do you do?
It must be the thing I dissected in the lab today. What was it again? Oh yes,cow organs.
Day Thirty-Seven: 7:40 PM. Location: Half-watching porn, half-writing in book on couch.
Well, (sigh) I've scored. Scoring is good. Especially when the partner worships the Kama Sutra. To put it in shorter terms, she did things---
Rude had spent five hours nitpicking through every inch of Julia's house to find Reno's diary. Turns out the redhead put it in the most obvious place a Turk would put their valuables: In the freezer.
Tightly wedged between a Ziploc bag of frozen meat and some five-year-old Hagen Daaz ice cream frozen like a chunk of concrete was the little black book. Rude immediately put everything back JUST in place, like a good Turk should.
After hauling the Chocobo steaks the size of Sephiroth's ego into the large freezer, he cleanly wiped off any remaining fingerprints off the freezer door. Then he got cracking. His eyes widened as he read further of Day 37.
Reno could be a millionaire selling X-Rated novels, only if the kid had an imagination. If only. Rude sighed, and then his almost non-existent eyebrows shot back up. Seemed that Reno drew something incredibly naughty. Who knew Reno was the new DaVinci? Human anatomy wasn't some easy thing to draw, y'know…
Rude got tired of reading about previous days. He missed reading about Reno's secret life, but it started to get boring once he got up to Day 30. Too much of a good thing could be a bad thing…
The follicle-less man got up from her lumpy couch, and toured the house, sunglasses in hand. It was quite a nice house, but the thought of Reno and Julia doing it here…. and there… and over there… and on top of this table… was just too… much for the poor man.
He fainted.