Dear Fred,
Well. I guess I done jinxed it. I SPECIFICALLY pleaded the old, "Ohhhhh, I can trust my own brother because he takes things SERIOUSLY..."
And why, pray tell, would he have went OVER to my desk—which is, mind you, MY desk with MY things—DUG around IN MY THINGS, and found you laying on my desk beside that box of pizza from last week? I dunno. Maybe, perhaps, his finger slipped. Wait, that's for resetting...maybe his memory slipped. Maybe he was sleep-deprived from the big day we had yesterday. At least he said he was sorry, unlike those reset-happy little punks. RESET RESET RESET! And every time I come to lecture them, it's TAP TAP TAP! Pressing that A or B button to make me blab faster! The most I've counted is 10,457 times by some kid named Penny. I think I hate that button-happy punk. I hate a lot of people, come to think of it. Maybe that's why Don doesn't think I'm healthy. Oh, well. Maybe'll I'll get to retire soon! Ha ha h~
Really? Another pencil? I think I should get one of those mechanical pencils...and I'll never stop talking! It's a resetter's worst nightmare! I wonder if they have mechanical vocal chords, because my throat has hurt for years now...
WHOA.
Someone's comin' in the Reset Center!
INTRUDERS?!
INTRUDERS MY HAT!
CODE 256! I gotta go wake up Don!
*5 minutes later*
It was some (probably reset-happy) punk who thought he'd go "exploring" because Don left the manhole cover open again! I told him a thousand times that leaving the cover up gets GERMS in! Anyway, Sir Peek-A-Lot wouldn't scram until I gave him a silver shovel as a, uh..."peace offering." What a weirdo.
But I'll shut up. You're probably tired of my yappin' by now, right? Not as interestin' as monochrome vision, am I right?!
Well, I'll go, but not without saying one last thing...
I...really...watched my language today. Don's my brother, and I respect him A LITTLE BIT more than most other folks. But if he writes in my journal again, he'll never have another well-cooked pancake as long as he's still tunneling!
Now...
SCRAM!