I found a bunch of wire and forks in my toilet bowl today. I am not really sure what they were for, but I know that damn Pete is responsible. I did use the forks to get some nuts, I don't think anyone will miss them, they are from the elevator door on Deck B. Its really hot up there anyway, so I figure it might make a breeze. I want a pie.
Pete says we have an inflation problem. I don't really know what he means, since we're all still breathing. On the downside Amy said she wouldn't let me into the armory, even if I gave her all my nuts. They're worthless now apparently. I can't even get a coffee with them from the cafeteria.
Amy said she's making something for me. I don't know what it is though.
PS. Found a blonde wig under my bed. No idea how it got there.
They cannot comprehend the steed, I refuse their speech to avoid their glances of regret. The cold black letters of the tiny lettuce will not deny me my gold.
The oven of Deck B refuses me breeze of pleasant, the floods wrought with parts of roof fitting. Time is precious, I will not let them take my soap.
Soap for the Soap God.
I refuse the conformism of the darkened, they will not grasp my straw. Amy, the dangerous siren of the coffin of offensive sticks, she denies me the splendor of the boomstick, I deny her the pleasure of my scent.
Cooking tip #1: In the future, avoid dipping chicken in sulphuric acid to defeather it.
Cooking tip #2: If the mushroom you found ominously growing on the bottom of your bed cannot be classed, its generally a good idea to avoid using it to make mushroom sammiches.
cooking tip #3: Petrol from my Starflier is not a valid replacement for cooking oil.
So I got all these nut, but Pete went and told everyone, so now they wont trade me for my nuts. Damn Pete. I may have to smother him with my green chair. This guy has gone to far. So I took all my nut and dropped them in his toilet. That'll show him. I have the oddest craving for baked beans.
So the nuts currency has pretty much crashed, after I traded most of mine to Adam so he'd give me back my microscope. It turns out he stole the little bolt that held it together... Maybe that's our next currency if nuts go completely fubar?
I got back to my room to find a whole mountain of nuts dumped in the toilet bowl. The culprit then peed and pooped on the pile and wrote "You're gonna love my nuts" on the bathroom wall in their own faeces.
I bet it was Tex, or Jack. God I hate Tex so much... I've begun work on building a catapult, so that I can bombard his room from down the corridor. Tests begin soon to test projectiles for the optimum effectiveness.
I dunno about that Jack, he keeps starting at me real weird. Then earlier, a cow flew past my door, then a chicken. I think the tiger ate them, but I think Jack is up to something. I think Pete got my message, cause he keeps asking Larry to use his toilet. My nose hurts.
Jack scared the hell out of me today. He creeps me out a bit. After the wall between my room and the bathroom fell down I've not had a lot of privacy. At least I'm rich though, I'd say it's worth it. He came and sat on the end of my bed and started asking me really cryptic questions about Amy. I think he knows too much, but maybe he's just bluffing, but the conversation would have been a lot less awkward if he'd pulled his pants up once he'd finished on the can.
I think he's trying to get into the armory too. I can't let that happen, and I think Amy is on his side.
Also, the number 29 is really interesting. I think I'll have to get 29 of everything. Like... mystical.
The dangerous siren breathed fire of plasma at Jack's head again, a further three feet was gained before tail was turned back to the land of lunchbox.
A steed must be crafted to impress the siren, before the Adam presents her a Tomato. Worlds would end in Jack's noggin.
Jack stumble on robes of towel, the combination is a welcomed one. The Soap God will be pleased, his blessing will be upon the Jack until velocirapture.
The others will feel the mighty force of the waves of fish when the shutters are broken.
Someone stole 29 porkchops, 29 bottles of vodka, 29 cans of baby oil and an assortment of toilet paper, paper towels and napkins, all totalling 29 in number from my personal store. Not only am I down in terms of my food stash, but I cant even enjoy myself any more. This means war. It better not be jack, or I might just accidentally give him some stone-grilled sulphuric chicken for dinner tonight.
On a side note, I cant get anyone on the line- Apparently my toilet is stuck, I heard alot of clattering sounds in the piping last night and a malicious laugh. I think the snapping turtle is back, and this time he's brought family too. I should probably sleep with my shotgun loaded tonight.
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