Dear Diary,
I'm currently sitting alone in the blacksmith shop. Gobber told me to 'stay' like I was a dog but after noticing the look on my face, added 'put.' So, here I am, staying put. I think that Gobber just doesn't want to supervise me again after what happened last time. I was in the back working on one my inventions and something accidentally caught fire. Ok, so I may have knocked over a lamp but it wasn't my fault. Gobber put it there to begin with so he should be blamed, not me. Right? I've been called a clutz before which is definately an understatement. I drop almost everything and break nearly everything else. I'm supposed to be working on a dented axe blade but I seemed to have misplaced it... ah here it is! Wait, that's not an axe. I'm in trouble now. Give me a minute to look...

Victory! I found the axe AND got it fixed and even sharpened. And Gobber though I would screw everything up. He my friend, is playing a dangerous game with THE GREAT HICCUP HORRENDOUS THE THIRD! (It always makes me feel better to say that.) So now, I have the rest of the afternoon free. What am I supposed to do? Last time I tried practicing swinging an axe, I gave myself a bruise the size of a large walnut on my forehead. I'm NOT trying that again. Maybe I'll go wander around in the woods. Sound like a fun afternoon right? Ha. Not really. I know every inch of the woods like the back of my hand. That's how much exploring i've done in there. I even have a map drawn in my sketch book. (I hide you where I hide my other books but I won't say where in case someone happens to be reading this.) I guess I'll just go back to the house to get my vest...

Ok. Now that I'm finally alone, I can say this. So, there's this girl. She's really pretty and smart but she's really tough and she acts like I don't exist. Her name is Astrid. She's got blonde hair and really pretty blue eyes. If I talk to her, he either leaves, insults me and then leaves, or rolls her eyes at me and then guess what? She leaves. I hate myself for being the way I am. I mean seriously. What kind of Viking can't even talk to a girl let alone get a date? Obviously me. I tried to be like her and her other friends but that just doesn't work at all. In fact, it makes me look even more ridiculous. To make me feel better, i've written a few poems. Don't laugh. (Who am I kidding? You're a book. Books don't laugh. And look. I'm even talking to you like you're real. Books don't think either, Hiccup. And now I'm talking to myself. I'm NOT going crazy if that's what you're thinking.) What in Odin's name am I supposed to do? Forget it. Aside from that, wait, what was that? I just heard something in the bushes. It was probabally nothing. There it is again.

Oh gods. You're never going to believe this. I took out my tiny dagger (axes really don't work for me) and set you down only to discover that it was MY DAD SPYING ON ME! I thought he had better things to do. I started to yell at him.
"What are you doing?" (I'm not a great yeller. I blame it on my yelling chord being defective from birth.)
"Who were you talking to?"
My face must have gone bright red.
"No one."
"Yes you were."
"Were not."
My dad and I argue like six year olds.
"Hiccup, don't lie to me."
"You had no right to be here."
My face felt like it was on fire.
"What are you writing? It better not be that diary again."
"It's not and I would really appreciate it if you left. This is kind of my private thinking spot.
"Fine. I'll go, but I worry deeply about you son."
Then, he left thank Thor. I sat down on my rock (I named it Hiccup's rock because I come here VERY often) and buried my face in my hands to think. I was going to have to be more careful. For starters, I had to try and not talk to myself so much. Only when I know for sure that I'm alone. (On one of your back pages, I made a list of stuff.) So, that's pretty much it for today. I'm cooking the dinner tonight and thankfully, I'm not thick enough to burn it. (Ahem. Dad.) And also, when I cook, it'll never be eel, I can tell you that. I guess I'll work out my Astrid problem eventually and maybe then my dad can stop worrying about me. But until that day comes, I remain yours respectfully, Hiccup the talking fishbone.

-Hiccup H.H. III