abstract
| - Mom bought me a diary. Oh yes, a diary. Not a journal. She didn't even consider my tastes when buying it. It's pink and frilly, with a lock and everything. It even has "Darcy's Diary" stamped across the front. Yuck. She woke me up in the middle of the day yesterday, all excited. Mom: Darcy, I got something for you. Me: [Ears perking up.] Oh, really? M: Yup! [Shows me the diary.] What do you think? Me: Not really your style... M: Oh, silly, it's not for me, it's for you! [Flips over the diary, showing the pink frilly letters. They're curly. It drives me INSANE.] What do you think? Me: [Trying not to hurt her feelings. Grimacing.] Looks... great. M: [Squealing. Actually SQUEALING.] Oh, I knew you'd love it! [Bounces out of room.] Me: [Looking at diary. Hoping lasers will come out of my eyes and vaporize it.] I... hate... you. So now I'm stuck with this really frilly diary that's pink and fluffy and all the things I hate. I bet if it was a human, it would be afraid of the dark, just like Nibbles, our years-old cat, is. Thankfully, Mom let me get my own cat, on the conditions I would take care of it and water and feed it. So I did. Her name is Kerra and she's my only friend. Not like I want friends.
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