Well, this is it. It's been a long, wonderful, hilarity filled trip. I've had a lot of fun writing this. Christopher Titus is one of my favorite comedians, (BTW, his new special, neverloution, Airs on Comedy Central July 3rd; check local listings,) and I absolutely adore his brand of humor. It has been a blast adapting his work to one of my old childhood videogames. And now, 12 chapters later and one epilogue, Dairy of a Thieve has been one of my favorite projects ever. Now, it's time to kick the bucket on this story. I hope you all had a blast and I hope you tell all your friends about it. When you review, if you do, I want you to tell me your favorite chapter, and what your favorite part of said chapter was. It helps me as a writer to know what people are looking for so I can add it to other stories.

Here are some idea's floating around my head for new fan fics. (Not Sly cooper Related)

Title: Red Leather – Fan fic: sonic the hedgehog – Premise: It's basically the David Lynch film "Blue Velvet," Except Tails is the main character, Rouge is the abused singer, and Shadow is the completely demented and terrifying, Frank Booth. (I just can't wait to write Shadow screaming at the top of his lungs, "Lets F***! I'll F*** anything that moves!)

Title: Over the edge – Fan fic: Fantastic Mr. Fox – Premise: It's the Episode of Titus of the same name, except with Ash as Titus, Kristofferson as Tommy, a new character as Dave, and Agnes as Erin.

Or, I'll just add a new chapter to my smut Teen Titans fic, Bed room habits. Other than that, I'm currently invested with Apollo (Which is my most viewed and reviewed fic to date), and my Avatar TLA related fiction, a method to the madness.

Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE REVIEWS AND SUPPORT! And now, it has finally come to this, here it is, the epilogue and final piece to Diary of a Thieve.


Prolouge:

*16yearslatersincelastchapter.*

Dear Diary,

It has been sixteen year since I last wrote into you;

16 years of hard work, raising a child, and teaching her the right things.

That right, I said her. Her name is Amy Montoya Cooper. She is the greatest thing that has happen to me, she is my rose, and I will protect her till the day I die.

But she's also a pain in my ass.

God, the first three years with her were hell. She was like a barfing, pooping, crying, money wasting machine; designed for the full purpouse of nothing more than ruining my life. people don't tell you this but babies, can't show you love back until three months later when they learn to smile. And I only made her smile as a baby a handful of times. But I'm funnier than that. And, I believe, if I'm paying for your food and rent, I better be the funniest son of a bitch in that house.

But all that's cool, because she's now a teenager.

And this is where the bomb of dismay drops.

I realized, that when my daughter hit puberty, that being a teenager is probably the worst…30 years of your life. There's acne, peer pressure, final exams; and if you're a boy, seven little puny hairs on your upper lip. Luckily, none of the girls in the orphanage noticed your infantile mustache because they were distracted by the huge fire engine zit on your fore head!

Sorry, that hits a little too close to home.

But, all that doesn't matter, BECAUSE, when you turn 30, all the problems of being a teenager vanish away.

unless, you have a teenage daughter, then, her problems, become your problems. I found that out today. Let me tell you the story of how I walked in on my daughter TRYING TO KILL HERSELF!


It was just a normal day for Sly Cooper; who was now 41, married to Carmelita Fox, and father of a daughter. Breakfast was made and served on the kitchen table. His wife was happily asleep upstairs in their bedroom. The sun was shining, the morning coffee was deliciously bitter, and it was a peaceful quiet day.

….too quiet.

Slowly, Sly realized that something was off. It had become way too hushed for any normal day at the Cooper house. It was one of those deadly, urgent, alarming silences that only parents knew of. You know; that type of silence where it slowly dawns on you that something is amiss.

Sly's eyes widen when he realized that he was all alone at the breakfast table. Carmelita was asleep, so Sly was able to scratch her out as a cause for alarm. But Amy, Amy hasn't made a sound. Sly wasn't even sure if she left her room. Something was wrong, and Sly knew that either Amy was the cause, or the victim. He really hoped it wasn't the later.

He hopped out of the wooden chair at the breakfast table in the kitchen, and ran past the living room, turned down a hall, went upstairs towards his daughter's door. He scrambled all the way up there, with not one ounce of courtesy or balance in his steps. He fumbled about with his morning rob as he tied it on. When he reached Amy's door, he placed his ear against the wooden frame. At first he didn't pick up anything. Not one sound was emitted from that room.

This was not good.

But then, he heard something. It was a cross between a slight sniffle, and a sob.

The situation had now grown from bad to worst. It went from dead silent, to slight sobbing. His daughter was in pain, and he wasn't sure why. But he'd be damned if he wasn't about to find out. Immediately, for good manners, Sly knocked on Amy's door violently with his right fist.

"Amy!" he shouted. Then he grabbed the door and swung it open. As he opened it, he asked politely, "Amy, what's the matter?"

It didn't take long for Sly to evaluate the situation, and when he analyzed every sordid detail, at first, he was struck paralyzed with fear and stayed dead in his tracks. His daughter's eyes were bloodshot. Her furry orange cheeks showed stains from where the tears were rolling down. He also noticed, to his utter horror, that in one hand, she held multiple small objects that looked like mints. In the other hand, she held a giant bottle of Jim Beam. And when Sly entered the room and made eye contact with her, in no less than a millisecond, she slammed the tiny white objects into her mouth and began to drink the whisky.

Then, Sly went ballistic.

"Ahh!" he screamed in terror as both of his hands grabbed his head. He just couldn't believe what he was witnessing. Then, immediately, he took action. He ran towards her screaming all the way, "No, No, No!" When he reached her, he knelt by her bedside and quickly shoved his fingers in her mouth, as he tried desperately to dislodge some of the pills that were within her cheeks. He was able to successfully remove a few. But then, his daughter bit down on his finger, hard.

"OW!" Sly screamed as he pulled his hand back and stared at the damaged finger. Then, with anger coursing through his system at full blast, Sly grabbed his daughter by the shoulders, and just like a school bully with a nerd, he tipped her upside down and began jumping up and down, as he tried desperately to save Amy's life. As he jumped up and down, and as his arms slammed into her stomach which he held tightly, he shouted repeatedly, "SPIT IT OUT! SPIT IT OUT NOW!"

Immediately, to his great satisfaction, a sea of white pebble looking objects and black liquid splashed out of her mouth and onto the floor and wall in front of her. Being very careful, Sly sat his daughter down on the bed, and picked up the pill bottle and the whisky. He noticed the labeling on the orange container, and realized it was painkiller.

"PAIN KILLERS AND VODKA!" Sly shouted with disbelief as he stared into his daughter's eyes; flabbergasted at what he witness; and shocked at what just about happened. Suddenly, he pointed at his daughter, and with a righteous fury, he proclaimed, "I TOLD YOU TO STAY OUT OF UNCLE JAKE'S EARTHQUAKE KIT!"


Epilogue: um…..errr?

Sly studied the pills and alcohol for a few seconds, as he held both bottles in each hand. He was dumbstruck with confusion. Amy was by far one of the happiest beings he had the pleasure of knowing. Every day when she got up for breakfast, she had a smile that would shine joyfully and brilliantly even in the most darkest of places. Why on earth would she want to kill herself?

Turning towards his daughter, who was now standing up and pacing the room nervously, Sly asked her staggered, "Alcohol and pills?" Sly bellowed awestruck. "What are you trying to kill yourself for? Are the kids in school making fun of ya?" Suddenly, Sly's face went from perplexed, to happily understanding. "Now Amy, they're just jealous because they don't have your great big male ears?"

Amy's face broke. Her mouth gapped open in shock. Then, she spoke with a fiery Latin voice that she obviously inherited from her mother, and a great deal of sarcasm which obviously came from her father. "Why thanks dad!" she shouted. "I thought it was because the love of my life dumped me but….thank you. Now I know it's because of my physical deformities."

Sly was shocked for two reasons.

She was killing herself over something as simple as teenage love?

Someone broke up with her?

Who in their right mind would break up with his daughter? They obviously were insane or completely wasted when they done so. Amy had inherited a jaw dropping, amazingly powerful beauty that obviously came from Carmelita's genes; with maybe a side of Sly's own. She had dark orange fur with black stripes tracing all over her body. Her big, puffy, orange fox tail was ringed with black stripes. She was not too skinny to be called an anorexic, not to fat to be called a pig, she was in that perfect middle ground where no one would even dare to judge or label her, unless she was simply going to call her perfect. At age 13, she had already received 12 requests from 12 different boys at her school to go on a dance with her. Now she was 15 and was getting dumped? What was going on?

"Puppy love?" Sly asked in disbelief as he stood up and walked over to Amy. He laid his arms on her shoulders to sooth her. Eventually, she shook her head nervously up and down. Suddenly, once she confirmed that it was love that caused her pain, he laughed. "I can fix that!" he proclaimed with a smile. Then, trying to brighten the mood, he told a joke. "You're still going to have to live with the ear thing though."

The reaction was a disappointing one, as Amy looked up at her father with a scowl painted darkly on her face.


In order to understand a teenager, you have to become one yourself; no matter how painful it is to access the memories of a twisted and disturbed past. I still shudder at the crap I gotten away with. The staff at the orphanage voted me most likely to get scrapped off a burning ramp by a puking fire man.

I remember this one time, where I and some of my friends broke out of the orphanage when I was 16, and we stole a Dodge Viper. We went along the France coastline which move in a snake pattern, we were traveling at a hundred and thirty miles per hour on a 60mph road.

And we were high!

Not just high. ! We could no longer hold our bodies up right; high!

And Beastie Boy's license to ill was playing at a soothing billion and five decibels. Yeah, try to wrap your mind around that mental image; a bunch of French punk teenagers screaming, "No sleep till Brooklyn! Yeah, we rock!"

But that's not the story I had to tell my daughter to save herself. I had to dig deeper in my dark past, and pull out one of my most painful memories. Not the most painful; the death of my parents is still ranked very high up there, but this memory is pretty close to it. It was my first love. Her name was Marla Fitzpatrick. She was a squirrel that came into the orphanage when I was just 8, and she was 8 years old too. As we grew up together, I found her increasingly attractive. But I couldn't make a move on her because she was in the hot looking babes group, and I was in the outcast loser who haven't discovered deodorant group.

A very exclusive group; might I add.

But, one day, fate thrower me a giant curveball, when our Orphanage counselor and teacher, miss Appleseed Ladybug, decided that it would be great if the orphanage would throw a Christmas ball for new investors and to have the kids some fun activities to do.

I was 15 at the time, so every friend I knew and every single hormone in my body was just screaming "PLEASE ASK MARLA TO THE DANCE!"


*26 years ago*

Sly and Murray waited in the lunch hall at the happy camper's orphanage. They leaned against the wall with their backs and one foot. They crossed their arms and seemed calm and almost expressionless. In fact, they looked somewhat bored. They were almost splitting identical images of Lee Marvin. And currently, they were doing something that most teenage boys were known to do at their age. They were scoping the room for chicks.

"What about that girl?" Murray asked as he pointed towards a very lean and small parrot girl.

"fshhhh, no." Sly stated in stuttering and obnoxious teenager fashion. Murray's eyes danced around the room as he tried to find another girl. His eyes landed upon a tall Zebra with long flowing black hair.

"Hey, what about that girl?" Murray asked. "I mean, her hair is just as pretty as yours."

"Fshsshyea. No way! Yeah right." Sly stated with enough self absorption to make anyone sick. "Man, dances are lame anyway. If I wanted to dance with someone I could just spray a pillow with perfume and dance with it at my bunk."

Murray laughed in agreement at first. Then, he stopped himself, and turned towards his best buddy, and corked a brow in confusion.

"….Which I don't do." Sly added hoping to take the intense attention off him.

Suddenly, with a loud CRASH, Bentley rushed into the lunch hall and accidently ran into a table. He tumbled over, as some of the kids from the orphanage laughed and pointed. He scrambled to get back up, and once he did, he ran over to Sly and Murray with amazing speed. All the way there, he was screeching, "SLY, MURRAY, SLY, MURRAY!"

Sly and Murray reached out and shushed their insanely, over energetic turtle immediately. Once Bentley's nerves were finally subdued, they asked him politely, "What the hell's you problem bro?"

"I just asked out Cindy to the Christmas dance." Bentley proclaimed with much enthusiasm.

"Nice!" Murray shouted with much fervor towards his friend's good luck. Cindy was known as one of the hottest girls in the orphanage. She was a purple vixen of about 16 years old, with some of the hugest knockers that any of the boys had ever seen. It was a miracle that the girl hasn't put an eye out yet. After Murray gave Bentley a much deserved high five, Murray proclaimed with a perverted laugh, "Dude, I hear she's got grass, on the infield."

The boys chuckled mischievously as dirty thoughts danced in their teenage heads. Suddenly, they snapped out of their hormonal daze and the pink hippo asked Bentley, "So did she say yes?"

"No," Bentley proclaimed. Strangely, he did so with a smile. This left the raccoon and the hippo mystified. Why wasn't their friend heart broken by the rejection? Something else was up.

"So what happened?" Sly asked as he desperately tired to coax some information out of his little green turtle companion.

"Well, when I asked her, my hand accidently brushed up against her boob and she bashed me over the head with a typewriter." Bentley said quickly and without one hint of remorse or sadness. Rapidly, he tilted his head forward so his friend could get a good look at his cranium. The turtle asked curiously, "Is there any blood?" as he pointed to the top of his head.

"No," Sly said long and drawn out as he studied his friend's skull. There was no sign of damage anywhere on Bentley's head. But as Sly dug around his friend's skull, he did notice something out of the ordinary. It was little, black, and circular. "Just a….." Sly mumbled as he yanked it out. Bentley yelped quietly and jumped in pain. Bentley and Murray looked at Sly as he showed them a piece of a typewriter that was lodged in Bentley's head. "A semicolon," the Raccoon explained.

Then, he cackled, and proclaimed quietly, "Colon." He and his friends began to laugh in an immature manner.

Abruptly, and out of nowhere, the sound of high heels flooded the luncheon halls of the happy camper's orphanage. The boys turned their heads towards the source of the sound. If beauty had to ability to kill, the boys would have died immediately at the sight they just saw. The three most hottest girls in the orphanage were now prancing around their space, and they were single for the dance. They were aware of this due to thick and dense rumor filled atmosphere of the confined space.

The first girl was none other than Cindy Vixen. As it has already been stated before, she had the biggest boobs of all time and Bentley had now just struck a quote unquote 'conversation,' with her earlier. The second girl was Lynda Cat. She may not have had the curviest body, but no one could deny her cute and charming face. Besides that, her golden locks would have made any man kill another just to be closer to her. And the last girl almost sent Sly into a heart attack. It was none other than the sexiest, coolest, most charming, skinny yet curviest girl he knew; Marla Fitzpatrick. When Sly would even get a glimpse of her bushy squirrel tail, Sly would almost fall into an epileptic seizure.

"Oh my God!" Sly whispered passionately to his friends. "It's Marla Fitzpatrick." He and his friends stared at the alarmingly attractive girl for a long time. They gawked at her like the horny teenage nerds that they were. "Oh man," Sly moaned. "She looks even more beautiful standing next to those skanks."

"Eww Sly," Bentley proclaimed as he pointed at the girls. "Don't you notice what they're doing, they're smoking."

At first, the Raccoon didn't catch their misbehavior. But then, as he started to study them real hard, he did notice that they were smoking. And while that was somewhat of a turn-off for some guys, for Sly, it made him even more turned on.

"She's sexy, courageous, and doesn't give a shit about the rules," Sly said aloud to himself. "Oh my God, I think I'm in love." Then, the Raccoon turned to his friends and proclaimed. "Hey man, I would pay a billion dollars just to kiss her dead, black, tar filled lungs."

The next thing that happened was something that Sly was totally not prepared for. Immediately, his friends shoved him over, towards the three ladies, and they pushed him hard. Bentley stated as he did this, "Sly, you need to ask her out to the Christmas dance right now. It's begins tonight. It's Christmas eve!"

"No way man!" Sly proclaimed. "She's way too hot for me. Why don't I just ask out Miss March from Playboy magazine?"

"Sly," Bentley argued his case with furrowed brows. "You'll never know unless you try. Now do it now! It's your perfect chance to ask her out. She's all hopped up on the nicotine." Suddenly, Bentley shoved Sly. The poor Raccoon lost his balance, and tumbled over like tree in the woods. And what's worst was where Sly had landed. For the ringtail had coincidentally landed right on Marla's feet. Now, there was no way of backing out of confrontation. What was worst was the fact that as soon as Sly fell, Marla bent down, helped Sly up to his feet and asked the poorly confused and nervous teenager. "Suge, are you ok?"

Her thick southern accent did not help in calming the meager Raccoon down. As he brushed himself off, he stated nervously with jitters, "Y-y-yeah, I'm fine."

"I hope you are," Marla proclaimed as she dauntingly and tauntingly held the cigarette in one hand and swayed her body left and right. "You fell like a ton of bricks."

"uh…y-yeah." Sly nervously proclaimed as he scratched the back of his head. Since he was only 15, he hadn't had much experience with talking to women. His mind raced uncontrollably, and Cooper desperately tired to sooth his nerves. Suddenly, he held out his hand and stated, "I'm Sly Cooper, by the way."

Marla eagerly shook his hand, and laughed, as she proclaimed, "Yeah, I know who you are. You're the kid from last year who accidently lit his hair on fire when we were lighting the candles during the black out."

Oh shit! She know about that? Sly thought apprehensively as his eyes widened and his heart beat raced. Ok. Keep it cool, play it cool, play it cool, play it cool! Ah ha! I got it! With a charm and swagger that only movie stars could produce, Sly stated as he pointed lightly at her, "That was no accident."

Both he and she laughed.

Whew! He thought. Dodged a bullet there.

Now Sly was caught in a dilemma. He had already established himself as a cool person in Marla's eyes, so in order to keep the lie going, Sly had to present himself as the coolest kid in the orphanage. And what did cool kids do, they smoked! So, holding out a pleading hand, Sly asked politely, "I could sure go for the taste of a good cigarette right now. I left mine in my…..uh….th-thing. Could I have a puff of yours?"

Immediately, and to the Raccoons internal surprise, Marla took the cigarette out of her mouth, handed it towards Sly's paw, and exclaimed, "Of course suge."

Sly's heart raced with anticipation. He had never smoked before, nor had he ever tried to look cool in front of a lady before. He didn't know what to expect to happen to him as soon as he would begin smoking. Would he immediately become addicted? Would he die? He studied the cigarette in his hand for what seemed like ages. He noticed that her lipstick had stained the end of it. Sly tried to calm his horny mind, but no avail. Slowly, he brought the cigarette in his lips, and inhaled. He sucked on the cigarette with passion and vehemence as he realized that he was sucking on a hot woman's cigarette. Oh, what a glorious day!

Finally, after a good three seconds, Sly gave the cigarette back to the squirrel mistress. Suddenly, Sly realized that he was only about 3 seconds away from coughing up the smoke back, and doing it fierce. While he did wanted to take his sweet time and ask the lady out with politeness and with ardor, unless he wanted to spit up a cloud of smoke right in her face like a batman gas can, he had to hurry his commitment along.

"So…um…is it okay if you'd be my date for the Christmas ball?" Sly asked hurriedly.

"….okay!" Marla stated quickly and giddy.

"Really?" Sly asked excitedly. He held his breath in both anticipation, and in fear that the smoke would blow up like a volcano.

"Yeah," Marla exclaimed.

"Alright, well I'll see you there." Sly stated in a strained voice as he held on to his breath for dear life.

"Yeah, that's cool." Marla exclaimed. Suddenly she noticed her friends were walking out of the room, so she ran to catch up. And just like that, she was out of Sly's hair.

So, feeling confident in him, and feeling safe that no one was presumably watching, Sly let go of his breath and began to cough up something fierce, and sounded like a jammed machine gun turret on crack. It was a violent cough that shook him so bad; he didn't notice the peach that had fallen on the lunch floor in front of him. His foot made contact with said peach, and Sly was now airborne. He hit the ground hard, and all the kids pointed at him and laughed. But that didn't matter. MARLA SAID YES!


Back then, play boy magazine was the only advice I had when it came to talking to women. I would read that thing, (mostly for the pictures) constantly. The number one thing that it registered to me when it came to women was that in order to pick up hot chicks, you needed a really nice looking car. Me and moray were recreating this 1964 chivy impala, and on that night, I decided to finish it myself and drive it up to the orphanage in style; even though I didn't know the first thing about engines at the time.

The second thing that Playboy magazine registered to me about women; put your man junk in her egg shack.


*later that day*

Bentley waited for his friends on the steps of the orphanage frantically. It just wasn't like Sly or Murray at all to run off by their selves and not return. They told him that they were going to leave for a few seconds and be right back. They said they had the perfect thing to help Sly score with Marla. Thing was, they had now been away for at least 90 minutes, and the dance was only 10 minutes away. Bentley was under the impression that he was ditched.

Suddenly, Bentley heard the sounds of high heels walking down the steps, followed by the angry and tired grunt of Cindy Vixen. Bentley nerves went cold. He froze up with fear and anticipation. All day long, he wanted to apologize to her about their earlier altercation. He wanted to tell her so badly that it was an accident on his part. But the fear of her retribution and wrath kept the poor turtle standing in his place. But, suddenly, when he noticed that she was on the final step, he decided to man up, and he ran desperately to meet her.

"Cindy!" Bentley shouted, causing the vixen to snap her attention towards him. When she caught sight of Bentley, she immediately scowled. And while she wanted to leave, she was somewhat interested in what the turtle had to say. When Bentley made it to the bottom of the steps, he swiftly began to apologize for today's occurrences.

"Listen, Cindy," Bentley began out of breath and filled with a sense of low self opinion. "I'm very sorry about what happened earlier today. Me touching your…..b-b-b-b-booooo-womanly area, it was just an accident. It was a simple misunderstanding. I would never do anything to offend-"

Bentley was cut off from his diatribe when Cindy's face broke into a shocked and bewildered gasp. Bentley recognized instantaneously that something was wrong. But the poor green turtle had no clue what could be causing her to act so strange. But then, he noticed something. His hands felt…..warm; like they were touching something squishy. He felt fabric and skin. What the hell? He looked directly at his hands…

And immediately his face broke too when he noticed that he was touching Cindy's boobs yet again. He slowly looked up with much fear as to how Cindy would react. She was breathing very slowly. Her teeth were grinding and she was ready to strike. Her face was as red as a cherry tomato.

"Oh God," Bentley moaned in agony of fear, before Cindy grabbed her purse and repeatedly slammed Bentley over the head with it. Meanwhile, as Bentley was getting his ass kicked, Sly had finally shown up for the dance. And as promised, he brought in something that would seal the deal between him and Cindy. It was none other than a 1964 chivy impala, with a sky blue paint job. It was glorious. The chrome shined with a futuristic glow. The paint was loud and bright, like something off a Wes Anderson film, and what made it even better, was just how slick and smooth Sly looked in his tux as he pulled up towards the orphanage.

"What comes before Part b? PARTY!" Sly announced when he slammed on the brakes with much enthusiasm.

Bentley, who was now left alone on the steps after Cindy had kicked his ass, was awestruck. Never before in his life had he ever seen a car so smooth and downy. Sly and Murray weren't kidding when they said that this was going to make Marla insanely attracted to Sly. It was a chick magnet! Speaking of Murray, Bentley thought. Where is he? He was supposed to be with Sly. And then, oh my god! There's smoke coming from the car.

As Sly laughed in self-righteousness, Bentley rushed down the stairs in bewilderment. "Sly!" Bentley yelled in fear. "What did you do to the car? It's smoking!"

"I just did some donuts behind the donut shop." Sly replied as if he was vaguely alarmed by the situation.

Bentley's eyes widen. "Sly!" he whined and chastised the ringtail.

"What!" Sly retorted; agitated beyond belief. "The sign said donuts; I was just following the rules."

Suddenly, a loud thumping sound was emitted by the car's trunk. It was so unexpected and abrupt that it made both the Raccoon and the turtle jump; startled. They looked towards the trunk, and immediately, without warning, the trunk popped itself open. Sly and Bentley ran over to discover the source of all this commotion, was none other than the missing pink piece to the puzzle; Murray. He got out of the car, and looked sort of woozy. As he got to his feet, he began to teeter back and forth. He wobbled with each step he took. Obviously the donuts Sly preformed earlier had some effect on him.

"Dude, someone barfed in the trunk of your car," Murray admitted.

Sly was somewhat outraged by the pink hippo's appearance. Running on what little logic a male teenager driven by sex hormones has, Sly thought that if Murray were around him while he and Marla were chatting, Murray's presence alone would cause Marla to dump him without a seconds thought. So, not only did Sly try to ditch Murray back at the auto-garage, but he also forged his writing and posted a very mean letter on miss Appleseed Ladybug's desk, calling her some very rude names. This would ensure Murray wouldn't be anywhere near the dance. This however, didn't seem to go as planned.

"Murray!" Sly shouted in anger and surprise. "What are you doing here? Miss Appleseed said nightrider, and then bed!"

Murray was not shaken up in the least by Sly's outburst. He gawked in an unappreciative manner. Suddenly, he felt a presence by his side. He looked over his shoulder to notice that Sly loud bellowing caused somewhat of a crowd to gather….well…..if you called a crowd one person alone. But for Murray's situation at hand, it couldn't have been a better person. Lynda Cat was standing right beside him. And as everyone knew due to word of mouth, she had no date for a dance. And, it was well known throughout the orphanage, that she was very, very attracted towards bad boys.

Using his recent punishment to his advantage, Murray turned towards Lynda with a wide smile on his face, a mischievous look in his eyes, and shouted with much passion, "I've been a baaaaaad boy!"

Lynda immediately smiled with a glimmer of rebellious nature in her eyes. Both her and Murray ran rapidly into the dance, hand and hand, and proceeded to cause rambunctious trouble throughout the night; much to their pleasure.

Sly and Bentley stood there in wonder. Their brains advanced themselves to melt into Swiss cheese as they tried to comprehended what in the hell just happened. Suddenly, their mentally damaged trains of thoughts were derailed when, again, the sound of high heels hit the def-notes of their ear drums. They snapped their necks as they urgently tried to find the source of the sound; for the sake of their highly destructive and powerful teenage hormones. Sly and Bentley were greeted with one of the greatest sights ever to bestow earthly eyes. It was Marla Fitzpatrick. She was all fitted out with mascara, lipstick, and a pink dress that knocked their socks off.

Immediately, Bentley began to panic as he realized that Sly's rented suit was a bit dusty. "Oh My God Sly! She's coming!" Bentley immediately reached over and franticly started smacking his suit. Sly, tried to hold his little companion at bay, and once Bentley was subdued, Sly looked Bentley in the eyes and exclaimed with much confidence, "I got this," even though he was fully aware that he didn't, and had no idea how to talk to woman.

As Marla got closer, Bentley moved away to allow his buddy to fly solo. Sly turned around nervously as he made eye contact with the beautiful female squirrel. In his mind, he sounded so smooth and cool that Dean Martin would've been green with envy. In reality, however, he sounded like any normal, anxious and uneasy nerdy teenager.

"hhhheeeyyy," Sly stated long and drawn out.

"Hi!" Marla quickly and happily replied back. That was the biggest difference between the two at the time. He was extensive and nervous. She was short and giddy. He said toe-may-toe. She said tomato. All of a sudden, Sly realized that a dreadful silence was rapidly filling the atmosphere. Looking around for a topic of conversation, the ringtail's eyes fell upon the car.

Stretching himself across it, Sly proclaimed with a new-found sense of confidence, "Check this thing out."

Marla was hypnotized. "Oh….my…..gawd! Nice ride suge!" she exclaimed with her southern accent drenching her tone like syrup.

"Yeah," Sly stated in his coolest tone possible. He walked backwards as he opened the passenger door, and escorted his lady into the car. She followed without one ounce of rebellion, as she was seduced by the sight of the car alone. "This is a 1964 Chevy impala convertible. It can take a man from 0 to cool in 0.5 cool seconds."

"Cool," Marla proclaimed excited; her estrogen pumping throughout her veins erratically.

"Yeah, cool." Sly replied as he walked around to the driver's seat. Filled with pride, he spoke with in a tone that was plastered with conceit. "I rebuilt the engine myself." He exclaimed as if it were no big deal.

Marla was filled with exhilaration and was awestruck that Sly, this goofy, nerdy teenager was able to fulfill such a task. "You rebuilt the engine all by yourself?" She exclaimed in disbelief. Okay, she was sort of in-love with him at first, but not she was completely mesmerized. He was a man with such skilled hands. Trying to show just where the night would go if he could keep his swagger up, she chuckled and said aloud, "I bet you're the type of guy who can unbuckle a girl's bra-strap with one hand." As she looked over her shoulder.

The mental image of Sly, in bed, with Marla, unhooking her bra strap with one hand sent Sly head over heels, as he fell face first into the pavement below him. He instantly bounced right back up, and brushed himself off in a hurried manner. He hoped to God that Marla didn't catch himself falling over…..again.

Sly rapidly sat himself in the driver's seat of the car. He desperately tried to find that image of coolness he portrayed earlier. In his mind, he conjured up the greatest sentence in existence. But in real life, it was utter shit. He sat himself in the driver's seat, looked over at Marla and said with boastfulness, "well, I can do a whole lot of things with one hand."

Marla laughed, trying to be polite. In her mind, she was going hysterical. Is this guy a retard or what?

Instantaneously, that strange silence flooded the air space of Sly and Marla's conversation. He rushed to find something to keep his image of poise afloat. Noticing a cigarette (or what appeared to be a cigarette) Sly placed it in his mouth, remembering that Marla smoked and probably liked boys who smoked too.

Once he did this, Marla cocked a brow. "Why did you just put a cigarette butt in your mouth?" she asked curiously in confusion.

Oh shit! Sly thought dreadfully. The sound of an atomic bomb played itself over in a loop in his mind. His mind raced in anticipation as he struggled for an explanation. Quick! His mind screamed. What type of men do girls like the smoke cigarettes? Suddenly, he heard the theme music to bonanza playing inside his head. Of course, cowboys!

"Why?" Sly said as he slicked his head back. "Cause…I'm a cowboy." He finished his sentence with a wink, and then he formed to finger shooters and fake shot her.

Marla laughed. Not only did she laugh, it was a full hearty laugh that could have echoed across time and space. Sly mentally wiped the sweat that brewed itself upon his forehead. Again, he dodged another bullet. He still kept his self-assurance and cool composure as he looked at his babe, threw and arm around her should, and reached for the keys in the ignition. "Now," Sly began. "Let's ditch this party and make one of our own."

Marla chuckled, and replied by giving Sly a dirty wink. "Let's go for a ride, cowboy!" she replied with devilish intent.

SCORE! His teenage mind shouted. Now, all that was left to do was to ditch this parking lot, rent a hotel, and then Sly could wave, bye bye, to his virginity at last. He turned the keys brutally and revved the engine up hysterically, to get Marla's heart pumping.

Suddenly, Sly heard a different pumping, coming from the car's engine. Three pumps later, Sly and Marla were greeted with a loud POP with a bright yellow light from under the hood. Suddenly, the engine stopped. A hiss presented itself towards their ears, and smoke began to cloud up under the hood of the car.

"no, no, no, no," Sly stated repeatedly as he ran out the door, and looked at the car hood with shock and remorse. Bentley, who had witness them chatting from the stairs, ran towards Sly side and aided him with whatever he was about to do. Marla scarcely made her way out of the car. She was in somewhat of a shock that her, cowboy, had engine troubles.

"I don't think you put the engine together right." Marla cautiously asked.

Sly's heart was on the urge of exploding. His fears that his night of romantic passion would disappear, were now becoming a reality. He just couldn't have that happen, ever! So, franticly, he shouted, "no, no, no! I can fix this. Watch!" and he opened the car hood. Immediately, he was engulfed by a giant cloud of white smoke. He began coughing, and hacking all the toxic air filling his lungs. Marla, who was looking at the engine from the left side, was enveloped by the smoke as well. She began waving her hand out in front of her as she tried to avert the smoke from her face.

Sly, trying to work the disaster into his use began to make light hearty comments. "Wow," Sly exclaimed. "More toxic smoke for our knarly smokers lungs. Woooo! It's like we're in a rock video."

Suddenly, Marla felt warm, and it wasn't the type of warm that she felt comfortable with. It was like she was burning up. She looked towards her stomach, and screamed! She stepped back and presented her newly ruined dress for the world's display. An oil leak had occurred and oil and splattered itself all over her dress. It was a disaster. And no one else was to blame, but the raccoon.

"You ruined my dress!" She screamed at Sly with anger and dismay. Tears were already starting form on her face. She pointed at the ringtail angrily and without remorse for him.

Sly was dumbfounded. He didn't know how to respond to a woman in need. He knew vaguely that he was supposed to give her a hand, but as to how, he was completely unsure. He was lost in the thick fog of perplexity. Again, his teenager hormones overruled his common sense, and his mouth released the most idiotic sentence ever to bestow itself upon the universe.

"You know what," Sly began, nervous and jittery. "Just to make it fair, I'll pour oil all over myself." He was greeted with the shocked expression of Marla. "…..and then we can wrestle?"

Marla lost her shit. Tears flowed down her face, and an ager level that would've made Gods quarrel with fear was released from her hyped up squirrel body.

"I thought you were cool!" she shouted with passion. "I thought you were awesome, but you lied! You lied to me about cars! You lied to me about smoking! You probably lied to me about being a cowboy! That's it. You and I suge, we're through!" she screamed with her estrogen in high amounts, pulsating around her body at a high velocity. She began to march up the steps, away from Cooper, with her dress in tatters; when Sly desperately tired to win her back. Immediately, he grabbed her wrist, and pulled her down to eye level.

"Marla, wait," Sly asked with self-pity. "Can i….Can I at least have one dance….slow if possible?" Sly asked, stuttering, with a puppy dog face.

And that's when Marla said the words that sent Sly's teenage world spiraling down into a great depression. She looked at him dead in the eyes, and with a fiery southern voice, she proclaimed with the passion of a thousand burning suns, "I WOULDN'T DANCE WITH YOU IF YOU WERE THE LAST GUY ON EARTH!" and with that, she left him in her dust. She never spoke to him once more. two days later, she was adopted by a family of oil workers from Texas.

As Sly stood there in his newly rejected from, he shouted one last plea, "Because there'd be no more DJ's, right?"


*present day*

Amy couldn't control herself, but right now, she was laughing hysterically. As her dad had described his disastrous first encounter with the female species, she could only find herself capable of laughing frenziedly. She was about to have an epileptic seizure. She was laughing so hard she swore that she could feel herself growing abs. Her dad's pain was hilarious.

"You see," a now older and wiser Sly Cooper proclaimed to his daughter. "If every teenager killed him or herself after a bad first date, well, there would be no need for prepubescent, semi-homosexual boy bands."

As Amy wiped away the tears of laughter from her eyes, she shook her head yes, and agreed with her father. "I guess you're right dad." She stated with a glimmer of hope in her eyes. She seemed a lot more happier than the crying teenager girl Sly saw earlier with a container of pills and a bottle of Jim Beam. "Maybe me and Ashton will end up together after all."

He lifted himself off the bed corner that he was sitting on. He had a bright smile on his face, as he realized that he just saved his daughter. "See!" Sly proclaimed with a happy smile on his face.

Suddenly, she got a weird glimmer in her eyes. It was like she was filled with sadness, but it was almost like it was tears of Joy. "Thanks dad," she proclaimed with a smile as her voice choked up a bit. She then leaned in for a hug.

Sly embraced her with father love and hugged her back with an equal amount of force. "No dear, thank you for having the courage to let me fix you." Sly proclaimed as he patted her on the back.

They held on to each other for what seemed like years as they tenderly embraced each other; father to daughter. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Sly let go of his own flesh and blood, and proceeded to pick up the bottle of pills and whisky. "And hey, no more suicide." Sly stated with a strangely ironic smile. And with that he left the room feeling confident that the fixed her. She was going to be okay.

Or so he thought. For as soon as the door slammed behind him, he heard the dreadful click of Amy's room locking. Sly gulped in fear. He ran back to the door and began pounding on it furiously. "Amy," he proclaimed. "Amy! Amy!" he continued shouting her name as he ran out of the house, and into the back yard, as he tried to find her bedroom window. Sure enough, he did, and then he screamed, "AMY, NO!"

For at that moment, He found his daughter, with a belt around her neck, standing on a chair, tied to the ceiling fan, and sobbing chaotically again. All it would take was one step, and Amy would be sleeping with the fishes. If Sly made one false move, it was all over. He had to find a way to relate to Amy's situation, but he had to do it in a manner that wasn't considered annoying or offensive.

It was a deep dark secret that Sly wanted to keep hidden his entire life. He never wanted to tell anyone, his daughter none the less, about what he tried to do after Marla broke up with him. However, if he was to prevent the suicide of his daughter, then all skeletons had to be removed from the closet, and exposed in the daylight.

"I tried killing myself once too, you know!" Sly shouted in desperation as he watched his daughter stand on the chair.

A change of some sort appeared to happen in Amy at that instant. Her eyes present a different glow. She was curious. Was her father lying just to keep her alive, or was he telling the truth? Had he been through the same type and amount of pain she was experiencing right now. She was inquisitive on the matter, and decided to ask some questions. She untied the belt from the ceiling fan, but remained on the chair with the belt around her neck.

"You got three minutes." She told her father.

Sly was confused. "You're holding yourself hostage?"

"Talk or I'll kill me!" She commanded.

"All right, All right!" Sly pleaded. Then, he continued to carry on the story about the lowest point of his life.


*26 years ago…..again*

Bentley slammed the hood shut on the Chevy Impala. The tortes and the coon were now back at the garage where Sly had originally fixed up the car for tonight. The location of the garage wasn't that far from the orphanage; in fact, it was on the orphanage's property line. So it was a very convent place for Sly and Bentley to stay at while they worked on the car. it took a lot of hours, but they finally managed to fix the engine, and the car was now smoke free. Bentley smiled at his work, while Sly sulked in the corner about the results of today's earlier interactions with Marla. Bentley walked over and patted the ringtail on the shoulder.

"Well, now that you fixed the car, you can fix the relationship between you and Marla." Bentley proclaimed happily.

"No. my relationship with Marla blew a gasket." Sly sniffled in sadness. "The Impala's pain is over, mine's just begun. Lucky, lucky, Chevy Impala."

As Bentley reached over to give his ever needing friend a much needed hug, again, they were interrupted by the sound of footsteps. As they turned their heads, they noticed none other than their pink hippopotamus, walking backwards and speaking to someone. At first, Bentley assumed it was Lynda, from earlier today. But, as Murray entered the room, and the identity of his new found companion was revealed, Bentley's jaw dropped to the floor with an ever resounding-thud!

"I got a copy of the key because my best friend's like an auto-shop TA. And you're my auto-shop TNA" Murray proclaimed lustfully as he held onto the girl's hands and directed her inside the shop.

"Hmmm, I bet," Cindy Vixen replied with a sultry laugh and wink. Then, she preceded the French kiss the hippo and mash her breast against his chest.

Bentley lost it.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" Bentley screamed with a demonic, other worldly, growl of anger and frustration. Murray and Cindy immediately stooped and snapped their head to attention. They were caught completely off guard. (Luckily Bentley caught them this earlier. Give them a few more minutes and Bentley would have caught the both of them with their pants down; literally.)

"What are you doing my future girlfriend?" Bentley asked enraged.

Cindy rolled her eyes at Bentley's over-dramatic nature, while Murray pulled her in closer. "Oh, were just gonna play a little game of truth or boob." Murray replied nonchalantly. Then, looking at Cindy's eyes, Murray said aloud, "I'm gonna choose boob."

Then, Cindy directed her attention towards the pint sized turtle. "That's something you'll never get to do, miss congeniality." Cindy proclaimed at Bentley.

That was the straw that broke the Camel's back. Bentley was now fuming with anger. As he spoke, he proceeded to walk towards Cindy; so, by the end of his confession, he would be standing 3m away from her.

"Oh yeah," Bentley began. "well let me tell you something! All those times I 'accidently' brushed up against your boobs; NOT ACCIDENTS!" Bentley exclaimed; fully telling the truth. Then, Bentley did something that would go down in the history books as one of the most courageous moves a turtle would ever pull. Once he was directly in front of her, without one ounce of remorse or self-preservation, Bentley lifted his hands…..

And squeezed her boobs. As he did this, he imitated the sound of a car horn. "AIOOOOO, AIOOO, AOOOOOOGA!"

Cindy immediately went for the offensive and started attacking Bentley with her purse…..again. she was so intent on hurting Bentley that when he started running, she literally chased him out of the shop and all the way back to the orphanage; striking him on the back of his head along the way. Murray, who was being left in the dust, proclaimed like a little whinny spoiled child, "COME BACK WITH MY BOOBS!" And proceeded to chase after them.

Sly was now left all alone in the auto-shop. His mind raced with sorrowing thought of depression and suicide. Now, that he was left all alone to his devices and with no one to stop him, Sly decided that he could no longer live. He decided that he would take his life. He locked the door and closed the garage. Now that he was in a confine space, all he had to do was turn the keys to the Chevy and die of carbon monoxide poisoning. But before he did that, he grabed a pen and a sheet of paper, and began to write out his suicide letter.


Note: the following is the exact suicide letter I wrote, for bantam. It is by far, possibly, the most stupidest thing you'll ever read ever. It contains the insane ramblings of a depressed and deranged teenage raccoon; high on testosterone and drunk off alcohol. Viewer discretion is advised.

Dear whoever finds my body in the car,

Sorry that I'm all stiff and gross but….I'm dead. Duh!

I killed myself because Marla Fitzpatrick, the prettiest and nicest girl in the world, crushed my heart in her cold bear claws. Or in her case, her squirrel teeth.

But don't tell her I killed myself.

Tell her….I died in the war. Cause chicks dig guys in uniform, even if their dead.

I'd like to be creamatted (don't know if that's spelled right, but it doesn't matter. I'm dead.) And have my ashes sprinkled at the Indy 500. And put some of the ashes in the winner's bottle of champagne, so when they have their victory toast, they'll drink my leg.

Cya,

Sly.


Sly sat in the car and turned on the ignition. The car rumbled like a stampede of horses. With each vibration he felt of the engine running, Sly counted away his seconds of life. He leaned his head back and waited for blissful death to carry him away. In the car with him, was a giant bottle of Jack Daniel's; which he shyly took sips of here and there as he waited for death. When the toxic air first made contact with his lungs, he coughed bitterly as his body tried to reject the toxins that he was urgently wanting to absorbed. After awhile, however, he started to feel woozy. His mind no longer raced. He was peaceful, Zen, and he now accepted his fate.

Then, his father picked up the bottle of Jack Daniel's and took a big swig. "Yep. Death is sweet, huh son?" Father Cooper announced.

"Yeah," Sly unconsciously announced. Suddenly, his eyes opened wide. He screamed and jumped out of the car. He landed on the concrete floor of the garage, and gawked at the ghost of his father. He was just sitting right there beside him. Sly shook his head furiously, trying to assure himself it was a dream, but his father was still there. He wiped his eyes, but Father Cooper still remained. He was surprised by the sudden appearance. Sly immediately got up, and shut off the car. He ran over to the garage door and opened it, letting the toxins expel themselves from the confine space. Sly had to keep himself alive, to speak to his father.

"Dad?" Sly asked with amazement drenching his voice. The ringtail was flabbergasted.

"Yes?" the image of Father Cooper responded. Then he took another swig.

"…..are you like my guardian angel or something?" Sly asked, wanting the logical explanation of why his dead father was standing right here in front of him.

"You can say that," The ghost replied as he made his way out of the car. He slammed the door shut behind him, and stood in front of his son. Sly was confused. His father had the look of disappointed painted bitterly and rashly across his face.

"You seem upset." Sly replied as he studied the features of this mirage.

"That's because I am." The poltergeist replied with a huff.

"Why?" Sly asked curiously.

"BECAUSE YOU'RE A DUMBASS!" The phantom shouted with the passionate furry of a thousand bleeding hearts. It was such a tremendous change of volume that it almost sent Sly flying backwards. It startled the poor ringtail for sure. But once the initial shock was over, Sly was angry.

"What? Because I tried killing myself?" He retorted bitterly.

"YES!" The ghost screamed. Then, he calmed himself down, and began to have a heart on heart talk with his son. Sly's long lost father, touched his shoulder, and began to speak with him on normal and polite terms. "listen to me my son," he replied softly. "I've seen Marla, and she is waaaaaaay out of your league. You know the first rule of picking up women right? You don't immediately go for the ten in a bar; you find the 7 and drink till she's and 8."

"So that's my problem." Sly asked with a hint of disgust in his voice. He was ashamed that at the moment his father returned, the first thing he did was argue with him, But Sly was too caught up in himself to notice this folly at the time. "I set way to high standards for myself?"

"No," Father Cooper replied caringly. "Your problem is that you're an idiot."

"Yeah, well that's not my only problem." Sly retorted in a mumble.

With a sigh, Father Cooper proceeded to tell a story. "Sly, before I met your mom, I was distraught over many women. There was this one time where I was living with this girl, for three year, and I thought that she was the one; she just had to be! But then, one day, she packed her bags and left. And you know what….I survived. At that moment, I had an epiphany, and I decided not to try and find someone perfect; I decided to just try to find someone. Get it? You don't need a soul mate to be your wife. Sure, it helps, but you don't need a soul mate. All you really need in your wife to get by, is a mate! Someone you eat and fuck with. That's all.

"Yeah, well I found my mate," Sly rejoinder. "And her name is Marla."

"Bullshit," Father Cooper exclaimed with fatherly love. "Did you put your man junk in her egg shack?"

"…..no," Sly replied with a grouse.

"Exactly." Father Cooper continued. "Sly, one day, you'll find a better woman. You'll find one that, even though she has small imperfections, she completes you. She's all the things you're not, but has the things you are so that you can get along. One day, you'll find someone that you know, if you had to spend the rest of your life with them on a deserted island, you wouldn't mind. But, that's only if you decide to move on. Are you going to move on?"

"No," Sly said with conviction. "I want Marla!" He whined like a seven year old.

"She's just a girl!" Sly's father proclaimed.

"No she's not!" Sly screamed with obsession. "She's everything. You're dead, you can't understand that. Next time you got to heaven, ask God for a copy of Foreigner 4."

Suddenly, the poltergeist tried a different tacit. Instead of staying and trying to convince Sly to change, the ghost decided to leave, and mock Sly on the way out, by telling him exactly what would happen if Sly were to carry on with his plan of killing himself.

With a shrug, he replied frustrated, "You know what? Fine! Kill yourself. And your friends can write on your tombstone, 'here lies the wussy who just gave up before he got another girl.' And then, they can invite Marla and her new boyfriend over, to have sex on your grave." And with that, the phantom fizzled away, and like sand being tossed about in the wind, he was now just a faint memory and taste.

Sly was furious. He ran out of the garage, made it outside, and cursed to the Heavens above, "YOU KNOW WHAT DAD? FINE! I WON'T KILL MYSELF! I'LL MOVE ON AND FIND A NEW GIRL. AND THEN WE'LL HAVE SEX ON MARLA'S GAVE! HUH! WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT THAT!"


*back in the present*

Amy stared at her father, who was now sitting across from her on the bed, dumbfounded. She couldn't believe was Sly was talking about. She was now sitting on her chair, and while the belt was around her neck, she no longer had it tied to the ceiling fan. She was completely speechless by her father's story.

"You talked to your dead father?" she asked once Sly was finally finished.

"That's not the point." Sly commented as he stood up and off the bed. Amy stood up as well, and kept eye contact with her dad. "The point is, if you kill yourself, you're admitting defeat. You think you have problems? Newsflash Amy, every teenager has experienced a break up. So why don't you just jump down off the cross, use the wood to build a bridge, and GET OVER IT!"

Before Sly could make another point, a voice rang through the house. It was none other than the fiery Latin, dulcet tones of Sly's wife, and Amy's mother, Carmelita Montoya Fox.

"Amy!" she shouted politely. "Ashton's here to see you."

Nothing could hide Amy's smile as she got up from her chair, and turned towards the door.

"Oh, now we're all happy aren't we?" Sly sardonically stated. "Well, wouldn't you be embarrassed; Ashton walked in and you were hanging there all blue and bloaty. Wouldn't you be red? Speaking of which, the belt is still around your neck."

Amy panicked for a brief second as she franticly tired to dislodge the belt from her being. She tossed it off and away into some decelate corner of her room, and then she proccedded to shyly smile once more. Sly rolled his eyes and opened the door.

And that's when Sly received the biggest shock of his life….ever.

Standing before him was not a jock, nor a nerd, nor an artist, nor a punk, nor a redneck, nor a man. But in fact, it was a GIRL! A very beautiful girl at that. She was cheetah, with golden locks, and almond brown eyes. Sly's heart literally stopped. This must be a mistake, he rationally thought.

"Hi Amy," the cheetah replied.

And that's when Sly received the lightning bolt that changed his life, forever.

"Hi Ashton," Amy replied as she walked forward. And then she kissed her. She kissed the cheetah! The cheetah girl is Ashton!

Sly was flabbergasted. His mind melted into swiss cheese as he watched his daughter make out with another girl. His mind couldn't fully comprehend what was happening. If Sly's mental health wasn't balanced, he would've snapped instantly.

"…..h-h-h-hey," Sly timidly protested; which he was not protesting at all. Amy ended their kiss and turned to look at her father. She gripped Ashton tightly. "Ashton, that's a trick name." Sly stated. "….Amy…I had no clue that you were a…..a…..a"

"A big dike?" Amy spoke for him.

"I was going to say lesbian, but if that's what the kids are calling it…." Sly jokingly said as he held 2 thumbs up and smiled.

Both Amy and Ashton laughed at Sly's awkward goofiness. Suddenly, they turned to look at each other, for both had something to say.

"Listen," Amy began, "I was sorry to assume that you didn't love me. I just thought that you were so pretty and got so much more attention than me, that I was just inferior."

"Don't' you ever think that," Ashton exclaimed with conviction as she pecked Amy's cheek. "It's my fault anyways for not paying much attention to you lately. Well with the conflicting schedule, and the cheerleader practice, and the modeling shots, I just had so much on my plate. But you know what; let me make up for it. I'll take you out for dinner, my treat."

"The usual?" Amy asked.

"Always," Ashton replied. "but….if you want….I was thinking of something more excotic."

"Definatly," Amy answered.

And with that, they ran out the room. as the pranced merrily out the house, they accidently bumped into Carmelita, who was smiling warmly at her daughter's interaction with Ashton, even though she wasn't fully up to speed with what that interaction meant. Once she saw Sly in Amy's room, she laughed and sighed.

"Look at the cute girls going to the mall to check out boys," Carmelita told Sly with happiness booming from her voice. "It reminds me of myself when I was their age."

It really doesn't, sly thought to himself as he saw Carmelita walk into the room.

Suddenly, Sly found himself getting drawn towards her. The memories of a dark past replayed themselves, and now that Sly had found himself with this beautiful foxy lady, he couldn't agree more that life was a wonderful choice. Carmelita was so much better than Marla. She was everything Marla was, only better, and everything else that Marla wasn't that Sly wanted. Carm's curvy, yet tone body had him mesmerize for the longest time. He found himself dangerously attracted to her body at this moment. Yes, they both were older, and yes, some scares of aging were starting to show, (Sly was getting a bit of a gut, and Carmelita couldn't remember the last time she didn't have crow's feet) but all that didn't matter. They were in love, they were together, and they were happy.

Sly gripped Carm in a powerful bear hug and began swaying with her.

"Well, Sly" Carmelita announced shocked, but not offended. "What's the matter with you?"

"Can I at least have one dance?" Sly moaned into her shoulder as they began to rock in a rhythm. "Slow if possible?"

Fully remembering the story Sly told her of his first encounter with a woman, Carmelita replied, "Hey, you can have as many dances as you like ,at any speed you wish."

"Awww," Sly moaned as they began to dance in Amy's room. It was by far, one of the happiest moments in Sly's life.

Suddenly, Sly felt compelled to tell his wife the news. Pulling back, he stared at her in the eyes, and said…..

"Honey, Amy's a lesbian."

Carmelita's face broke.


Being a teenager is the worst 30 years of your life.

But it all changes after that. You get a great car, a great woman, a great child, a great job and great health.

But just remember that at any moment, your car can get repossessed because your company gets pulled out from under you, so you can no longer pay the bills because you have an angry wife and a bratty teenager to support and you die of a heart attack from the stress.

But hey, not one zit.

This is the end of my diary, for now I have ran out of paper.

Hugs and kisses,

Sly.


Thank you all so much. It is finally over. I guess I have nothing else to say but, PLEASE REVIEW, and tell all your friends about this story, and tell them to review as well. Please vote for your favorite fan fic I should do from the list above. Also, tell me your favorite chapter and your favorite moment of that chapter. If enough of you do that, I might make a bloopers chapter. Keep your fingers crossed folks. 10 reviews of this shall do it.

With many thankful and humble regards, I wish you the best, have a long, safe, amazing, and happy life,

Welcometofightclub

Oh, and if this is your first night, you have to fight. *smirks and gives troll face*