Recently, the Super-Secret Network of Sewer Apprentices[tm] found a small black book in their domain. With great skill and courage, they have brought the contents to light, so that for the first time, everyone can know what Attack Laurels are really thinking.
We salute their bravery, and hope that the Academy never finds out who found the book, because there are worse things than sewer work, if you know what we mean (and we're sure you do).
My Xtra-Special Secret and Pretty Diary
A Laurel (the Bestest Laurel in the Whole Damn World, and They'd Better Not Forget It!)
Day 1 - Dear Diary, I think it is time to set down my deep thoughts so that when I am gone, My legacy shall live on thru the ages. I am so great!
Day 10 - Dear Diary, sorry I haven't written for so long, but for some reason deep thoughts are not happening. In other news, I went to the local event and made two new people cry. Go me.
Day 28 - Dear Die-ary, this deep thoughts thingy is harder than I thought. I tried to lecture my apprentices on how hard it is to be brilliant, but they kept giggling at me. I hate them. I'll make them judge the Pennsic arts competition all by themselves as punishment.
Day 29 - I have taken another apprentice! He squeaked a bit when I forced him to write the contract in his own blood, but he quieted down after the fifth paragraph. It's a good thing I have lots of other apprentices; this one's a bit heavy when he's unconscious.
Day 35 - I went to the local dance event and judged the dancing even though there was no competition. I reduced the dance master to tears in less than ten minutes - a new record. After he ran off, I yelled at taught the dancers until they got every step exactly right. After all, we're not here to have fun. Well, except for me - I had lots of fun.
Day 37 - I dressed all my apprentices in identical pink satin Elizabethan outfits to coordinate with my black Elizabethan. The guys complained until I showed them the section of their contract where it says they agree to be accessories at every event. I'm so cool. Boy, do they look stupid, though.
Day something - Judged broowing cimpecumpe compitishun at local event. Los' of luvly peeple.
Day 45 - Euphoria caused by heavy sampling of honey mead at event yesterday caused me to be way too generous with the scores, and I only made one person cry all day. Damn. No more brewing competitions for me!
Day 52 - I made seven people cry at the event today, and it wasn't even an official event. I think that's a personal best. Yay me!
Day 72 - The King looked at me funny today in the Laurel meeting when I said we had enough Laurels in the kingdom. I may have to dig up those old photos of him in a compromising position with the Kingdom Herald again.
Day 86 - Dearest Diary, at last! I have a date for Friday night at Big Bob's House o' Food with a nice Laurel I met on the Authenticity.boo.snark.snark.snark newsgroup. I hope this one's better looking than the last guy - God, save me from more Pelicans.
Day 88 - Dear Diary, I am soooooo sad. This guy was a loser too. He didn't know anything about the Irish Wars, and he thought the Paris Gardens was in France! Will I ever find someone who truly deserves someone as incredibly cool as me?
Day 105 - Stupid diary. I can't think of deep thoughts when I'm writing on non-period paper, that must be it. My apprentices are laughing at me behind my back, I know it. Hate everyone. Poisoning is period, right?
Day 107 - I caught my apprentices reading my diary. I must kill them all.
Day 108 - Dear diary, I must destroy you. If you fell into the wrong hands, people might find out that I got my Laurel through blackmail, that I don't have any skills, and worst of all, that I don't have any deep thoughts at all.
Oops. I probably shouldn't have written that in waterproof ink.
Day 109 -
Dear diary, I think I'm in deep trouble.
(Here, the diary ends. While we don't know for sure who wrote it, we have our handwriting analysts working on it, and expect to know any day now.)
Text and images copyright L. Mellin, 2000-2008, except where noted. All rights reserved.