Mom took my license. Something about a test, I think. God, I don't know. I am soooo baked. I looked over at Mr. Muggles a while ago, and it looked like he was trying to tell me something. I got down on the floor and stuck my ear up near his mouth, but I still couldn't hear him, so I tried reading his lips for about ten minutes till I remembered I'd given him some peanut butter (I was eating it straight from the jar with a big wooden spoon). So he wasn't really trying to talk. I'm telling you, though, those ten minutes fucked me up something fierce. I'm talking some seriously weird shit, man.

Oh, Super-Sister snuck some geek up into her room. I think maybe they're banging. How do like your Claire-bear now, Dad? Up there with her teddy bears watching . . .

Fuck, Mr. Muggles ran off with the spoon. Hey, just like the fork! And the cow jumped over the moon.

Aw, man I gotta write this shit down. This is gold. I'll be back.


What the hell is this?? Buncha people running into the house, dressed in suits with guns and stuff. Haha, probably the statutory squad. Better get your geek out quick, Super-Sis.



So apparently it wasn't Monday yesterday. But today is Monday, pretty positive.

So the shit hit the fan. Well, as much as it ever does when I'm involved, anyway. Mom found my stash jammed in between the jelly and the pancake syrup. Fuck if I know how it got there. When I checked my hiding place (under my sock drawer) I found the spoon taped there.

Pisses me off, man. I turned the whole damn house upside down looking for that damn spoon! Peanut butter all under the drawer, and I had a hellish time getting to my socks.

I'm looking at you, Mr. Muggles.

Anyway, I'm grounded, but I doubt anyone will notice if I skip out for a few hours. Or weeks.

Entry 5:

I don't know what day it is. I'm just gonna admit that right now. I know it's not the weekend, because I went to school.

What the hell is that about, anyway? Super-Sis is a drop-out, and damn if Daddy doesn't love her even more. She just sits around moping, cutting her fucking toes off and emo shit like that, or she's out fighting crime (*cough*nailingGeekBoy*cough*).

You know her other dad's a politician? I'm talking loaded, man. So on one hand she's got Scrooge MacDuck, right? And on the other she's got Papa Primatech, who lives to love her. You know who wants a piece of that sunshine? Fucking Lyle, that's who.

I swear to god I think they only conceived me (barf) because they thought maybe I'd come in handy as a human shield for Claire. Like I could ride in front in the stroller and take a hit if it came down to it. Now that she's all invincible, they don't know what the hell to do with me.

Aw, man. I'm gonna go cry on Mr. Muggles. I hope he doesn't hump me again. Why does he do that? I feel so violated.


So I asked for my license back today, and Mom was like, "Oh, I lost it. Sorry." And she looked over and Claire, and I swear to god I saw a smile!

What the HELL, man??

It looked like Mr. Muggles was laughing at me, too, but I don't know. I guess he always looks like that. He's a dog.


Dad's home today, which means that somewhere in hell, the devil's gone sledding.

I met a guy today. Oh, man, that sounds sooo gay, ahahaha. But no, seriously. I was coming back from Alan's, and I met this dude, right? Creepy looking dude, looked like he drew his eyebrows in with a jumbo Sharpie. You remember that old lady down at the market, with her big fake eyeliner eyebrows? So it's like that, right? And he strolls up to me, and he starts chatting about "special" people and stuff. I guess he was collecting for some charity. I don't know, I wasn't really paying attention. But all of sudden he's talking about Super-Sister, asking weird shit like, "Does she ever mention me?"

And I'm like, "Look, man, sorry, I don't even know you."

And he looks at me all weird-like—freaky looking dude, by the way, eyebrows halfway up his forehead—and he's like, "You don't know who I am?"

And I'm like, "Naw, man, sorry."

So I guess that was really funny, or maybe he was stoned too, because he starts laughing. Weird guy, man. Creepy guy. Must be about fucking thirty-five, by the way. Claire-bear must like 'em older, because I swear to god, I think she's hitting that. Daddy's little girl, man, tell me about it. Ha ha ha ha! Wonder if Geek Boy knows. Come to think, I haven't seen Geek Boy since that night. When was that? Monday.

God, Super-Sis is a slut.

So anyway, Eyebrows finally got a grip and stuck his hand out. I started to pass him a J out of habit, but I didn't have one. So I shook his hand, totally clueless, right, and he goes, "Let's keep this conversation between you and me, uh—what is it, Larry?"

And I go, "Larry. Shit. Sure, man." So we shook on it, and he took off. I musta been pretty baked even then, because shit if it didn't look just like he just floated right across the street.

I was coming down by the time I got home, feeling kinda bitter, so I bust in the door and call out, "Larry's home!" And nobody even cared, man! Mom's sitting there doing a crossword, and she just mumbled something about "how was your day?" and Dad looks over all smiley and booms, "Larry!"

Son of a bitch, man!