Well... I don't really mean that. They told me I should write on you
to help make the voices go away. I don't really care for you much at all, at
least not enough to call you "Dear." So get bent, Diary. Just get bent, and let me
write stuff on you.
I woke up feeling crappy today. So I wrote "crappy" on my forehead, and stared at myself in the mirror. By lunch-time the letters had changed to "get bent," so I wiped them off.
I had an idea while I scrubbed the crappy letters off my face with toilet paper. I thought, what if toilet paper
were money? People would flush rolls of money down the toilet every day. I
ordered a pizza and tried to pay for it with three squares of quilted with
little blue daisies on, but the deliveryman would only accept two rolls of
single-ply. And they call me crazy. Yes, they call me "Crazy Guy."