[The following is a bit of text I stole from the idiot writer who likes to make our lives miserable. Sincerely, Pickles]
“Tell me again why we’re running for our lives?” cried Stanley Dunkelberger, a skinny, curly black haired boy, who was Pickles and Piper’s best friend in the cul-de-sac.
“Because Turd emptied my milk bottle on Danny’s head!” called back Piper, painting hard with a side stitch.
Danny Daniels was the school bully and no one picked on Danny if they didn’t wish to suffer. He took after his dad, the Titchfield mayor, who bullied his way into winning the recent election. Danny was the apple of his dad’s eye, but the embarrassment of his mothers. Now, thanks to Turd, Pickles, Piper, and Stanley were running for their lives.
“Quick!” called back Pickles who was way ahead of the other two. Her fiery, short ginger hair acting like a beacon for the other two to follow. “Down this way!”
The kids made a quick left off 3rd St down Mays Alley. Danny was big, as in fat, so it was pretty easy to outrun him. But he was also relentless and had spies set up to see where his victims were headed.
Pickles was already on 2nd St when three of Danny’s thugs came out of nowhere. Pickles came to a quick halt and turned to run back toward Piper and Stanley. It was too late. Two more of Danny’s thugs had trapped them in Mays Alley.
Just when Piper and Stanley thought it was the end, there was a loud scream from Pickles direction. The scream of a guy squealing like a little girl.
Went to Pickles house today with my uke and jammed with the Turd, as he now wants to be called. Something about playing the drums has made him want to be called “the” Turd, instead of just Turd.
Anyway, his playing may be driving Pickles crazy, but he’s actually getting better. Uncle Joe ordered him a tambourine from Amazon with little cymbals in the side. That way he won’t have to use a stick and can just focus on the music. He’s as excited as a little kid, which is pretty funny since he’s 187.
I feel sorry for him. Ever since Uncle Joe took up the drums, Turd has wanted to play. It’s a bit tough when you’re a ghost. There’s so many cool things that exist now that didn’t over 100 years ago. Uncle Joe is trying to work out a way for him to play World of Warcraft with him. I think he’ll pull it off. Uncle Joe can do anything. 🙂
Dear Diary (2:30 AM),
Ugh! Turd is driving me insane!!! It’s like 24/7 he has to play the drum. Actually – it’s not playing! It’s more like constant banging, like some sort of cruel Chinese water torture, or a three-year-old with a spoon and a pot! Pretty much the same thing.
I’ve tried everything to block it out. I tried the fan, a spa machine, ear plugs – nothing works! I went into Dad’s bedroom tonight to protest, and he was fast asleep with a smile on his face – and wearing a NOISE CANCELING HEADSET! JERK!!! I’m the one who has to get up for school in the morning! grrrrrrrr
If you never hear from me again, Diary, it’s because I threw myself out the window.
For some reason, Turd has decided he wants in our little band. He insists he can play the drum, and had Pickles convinced we’d make more money have a ghost. I have to admit, he might have a point. How many buskers have their own ghost?
The problem is, he’s not very good. He’s trying – really hard, but still. He needs to be able to tap out a better rhythm before we let him in.
Uncle Joe thinks it’s a great idea. Mom thinks he’s up to something. I hope not. But with Turd – anything is possible.
After we got back from Springhollow, me, Pickles, and Stanley decided to form a band and see if buskers could survive in a small town like ours. Me and Stanley play the ukulele. Pickles is great with her Irish tin whistle, although, I’m a bit sick of hearing “The Hobbit” theme song.
Anyway, we decided to keep it going till the snow flies. We haven’t done bad. Not great, but not bad. We play near Puke’s Alley by the pub. Call it what you like, but if the guys come out drunk enough we get great tips!
Stanley thought we should quit the afternoon someone puked in his gig bag. I agreed, but Pickles somehow managed to talk us into staying. That girl could talk a monkey out of his tail.
In a couple weeks we’ll have enough money to go to the comic con!