P.S. Longer Letter Later

In fifth grade, my friends and I had many activities we enjoyed doing together: rating the boys in our class on various predetermined qualities; singing along to Paula Abdul; eating Cool Ranch Doritos; choreographing elaborate dance routines to the Dirty Dancing soundtrack; and, of course, creating fictional characters who would then engage in epistolary feuds. The former is what we'll be covering here.

I had tried coauthoring a book before with my friends Katie and Jessica. The plan was that each of us would write a paragraph, then hand it off to the next person. The problem? We never made it to page two. We did, however, write some preadolescent promo material:

LIFE ISN'T FAIR
Courtney used to think her life was great. She isn't popular and she isn't a total dweeb. Her and her best friend, Teri, have it made. And Courtney's boyfriend is the most popular boy in school. Then Courtney's parents are having a baby, and Courtney eavesdrops and discovers the fact that she's adopted and she knows that her parents don't want her. When her boyfriend dumps her, that's when she decides that life isn't fair. So she [wait for it...] runs away.

Of course she does! By the way, I think we may need to resurrect the word "dweeb."

For our next cowritten venture, Katie and I decided to simplify things. Our book would be a series of letters written by two friends who were having a much more interesting summer than we were. Plus, this would give us an excuse to utilize a four-color pen (Katie) and dot our i's with hearts (me).


But first we had to jot down a list of our respective four-color pen pals' vital statistics and favorite T.V. shows—this allowed us to make extraneous pop culture references and concoct zany hobbies that no real-life fifth grader would ever admit to being interested in. My character, Andrea Forleene, loved goats and Corey Haim.

Full name: Andrea Heather Forleene
D.O.B.: October 4, 1977
Sex: Female
Fav. Food: Chocolate cigars

Because everyone knows chocolate tastes better when it's shaped like a phallus. Mmm!

Fav. Colors: Black and hot pink

Fav. T.V. show: The Wonder Years
Fav. Animal: Goat
Fav. Song: I Saw Him Standing There Only In My Dreams
Fav. Actor: Cory Haim
Fav. Actress: Kristy Swanson

I was very impressed with her performance in Flowers in the Attic. And that movie where she narrowly escapes death by becoming a killer robot.

Fav. Singer(s): Debbie Gibson
Fav. Movie: Three Men And A Baby

Remember those rumors about how there was a ghost of a little boy in Three Men and a Baby—but it turned out some sloppy crew member just left a cardboard cutout of Ted Danson wearing a top hat and tuxedo in the scene? Lame!

Worst urban legend ever. It should at least be the ghost of Guttenberg!

Height: 4'8"

Weight: 79½
Family: dad - Christopher (41), mom - Stephanie (39), sister - Christina (16), sister - Brittany (14½), brother - Sean (12½), and me!! Andrea (10½)
Fav. Sport: Kickball
Hair Color: Brown wavy, shoulder-length
Eye Color: Brown

Are you ready for the hobbies? This is when we get into WTF territory.

Hobbies: Writing Letters, Singing, Riding Trains, Collecting fake flowers, making pyramids out of old pop cans, recycling, eating chocolate, collecting flashlights, wearing tons of jewelry, making my family members pissed.

Making pyramids out of old pop cans? Seriously? That's how Andrea spends her time? And I thought the flashlight collection was so genius, I actually reused it in another story. !!! Or perhaps you could say I "recycled" it, because recycling is one of my hobbies. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to catch a train to the fake flower shop. Right after I tell off my mom.

Katie's character was Leslie Nettles, a creative speller who belonged to organizations with unwieldy acronyms for names.

Full Name: Leslie Elizabeth Nettles
D.O.B.: July 7, 1977
Sex: Female
Favorite Food: Corean Chiken Balls

Neither Katie nor I had ever eaten a Korean chicken ball, but we HAD seen the movie Hello Again, starring Shelley Long as a woman who chokes to death on a Korean chicken ball only to be magically raised from the grave one year later by her woo-woo sister, Zelda. Unfortunately, Shelley Long does not come back as a zombie, but she does end up making out with Gabriel Byrne, so I guess that's cool too.

Favorite Color: Peach
Favorite T.V. Show: Miami Vice
Favorite Animal: Saint Bernardo

Saint Bernardo?

Do you get it? Do you get it?

You might if you realize that's Bernardo from West Side Story, and that's he's wearing a shoddily drawn halo. (Crap, jokes aren't funny if you have to explain them, are they?)

Favorite Song: Pour Some Sugar on Me
Favorite Singer(s): Def Leppard
Favorite Movie: [Blank]
Hieght: [Blank]
Wieght: [Blank]
Family Members: Mom: Frances (38), Dad Francis (39), Maria (7), Sandra (16), Marx (16), Alan (13)

We thought it would be beyond hilarious to have two parents with the same name. In retrospect, I think it would be better if their last name was Francis too. Also, MARX? What do we think? Are Frances and Francis commie pinkos or Marx Brothers fans? Or both?

Favorite Sport: Horse Back Riding, Water Skiing
Hair: Red
Eyes: Green
Hobbies: Basket Ball, Dancing, Acting, Bug Collecting, Pillow Case Collecting, Cooking, A.C.A.O.A.F.G.W., making my sister jealous, Water Skiing, Horse Back Riding, Listening to the OLDIES [do you think she sweats to them as well?], collecting podel skirts (Todd)

I know what you're thinking—that is, after you've gotten past the pillow case collection and the podel skirts (Todd, by the way, is not the name of one of the podels; he's Leslie's love interest, as you'll see shortly). What you're wondering is "What the hell is the A.C.A.O.A.F.G.W.?" The disturbing part is that IT DIDN'T TAKE ME THAT LONG TO FIGURE IT OUT. I'm pretty sure Leslie belongs to the Anti-Chauvinist Association of America for Girls and Women. And the protagonist from Life Isn't Fair was also a member! [Courtney Allison Sett also had a pet iguana named Igor (who she would totally fall for if she were an iguana!), her boyfriend was a georgiouse skater, and she had a weird habit of stating facts about herself aloud.] I'm not exactly sure what the A.C.A.O.A.F.G.W. did at their meetings, but I suspect it may have involved comparing men to farm animals.

Katie started off the letter writing. Her character had way more exciting vacation plans than mine did.

Dear Andrea,

Hi, how are you? I'm fine! How do you like being with your cousins all of the time? It gets really hot down here. You know Australia always get to be 90° everyday? Well, it's true! I miss my dog Duchess sooooooo much! Do you miss your house?

My grandparents, well, really my grandma can be such a NAG, with a capital N! There's one kangaroo who is hurt and is really tame who eats out of my hand. COOL, huh? I bet you could never get an animal to eat out of your hands!

Well, gotta go!

Chow-Chow, Taa

Your Friend
Leslie E. Nettles

Hello, and welcome to the portion of our story entitled Awesomely True Facts About Australia! As you probably know, the seasons Down Under are opposite those of the U.S. So when we are experiencing summer here, in Australia it's wintertime. What you may not know is that IT DOESN'T EVEN MATTER, because it's always 90° in Australia, every single day! It's also a little-known fact that all Ozzies have wild kangaroos in their backyards. Kangaroos are kind of like the raccoons of Australia. Except they don't have opposable thumbs. And they like to be stroked when injured.

DearTO: Leslie Elizabeth Nettles,

For your information, ELIZABETH, my Aunt & Uncle and cousins live on a farm (SORT OF) here in Vermont. SO animals like goats and stuff eat RIGHT out of my hands. SO THERE! So chow yourself out!

Andrea Heather Forleene

P.S. Your grandma's right to NAG you!

In patented Sada style, my character goes totally frigging psycho after the smallest provocation. Also, I think there was some (unwritten) backstory about how Leslie hated her middle name, hence Andrea referring to her as Elizabeth in CRAZY CAPS™. However, I do enjoy "Chow yourself out!" as an insult. I like to think of it as a less-sophisticated version of "Why don't you take a long walk off a short pier?"—except I think it might involve overindulgence at the Old Country Buffet.

Dear Andrea,

Listen, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to be a brat but I was just sooooo excited about the KANGAROO eating out of my hand. By the way, my grandmother does NOT have the right to nag me.

In your next letter, I hope you aren't mad at me! Gueese what? I met this really neat boy/guy? named Todd. He's got brown hair and green eyes! His grandmother lives down here too. He seems like he's pretty smart but I don't know.

Write Back Soon!

Chow-Chow, Taa

Your Friend,
Leslie E. Nettles

Well, I'm not surprised she doesn't know if Todd's smart. She can't even tell if he's a boy/guy!

Dear Leslie Patricia, [Because Patricia is a waaaay hipper name that Elizabeth.]

Well O.K. you're forgiven, just don't act so conceited! O.K. I guess you can't help it. [Ooh, BURN!] Tell me more about TODD! He sounds SUPER GREAT! No boys around here except for my dad, Sean, and my cousins Danny (10) and Aaron (5). Danny has a crush on me! MY OWN FLESH AND BLOOD. Isn't that sick? I hope the KANGAROO feels better. O.K. so my other cousin is a girl and her name is Allison and she's 12 and we call her Allie.

Your friend, Andi

P.S. Write back soon.

Thankfully, all those Flowers in the Attic viewings haven't warp Andrea's ideas about what activities are appropriate to engage in with your own flesh and blood.

Dear Andrea,

Hi! Listen, I don't think Andi is such a good name, I mean it's just really not your style! Really, who gave you that name? Any way if you like it, Andi.

Sooo, you want to know more about MY Todd? ["MY" is actually underlined three times in three different colors, but I could only use one here.] You're probably thinking: "her Todd," huh? Well, he asked me to go to the BEACH with him! ALONE! Without any adults! COOL!

It really is gross about Danny! Listen is he cute? How's your aunt? My grandma is just great. Oh, my grandpa caught a 27 bl. fish. Gotta go

Chow-Chow, Taa
Your Friend,
Leslie, (Lesi)

More Awesomely True Facts About Australia: They don't actually use the metric system there. Instead, they use an obscure version the United States customary system in which everything is spelled backwards. That fish weighed 27 sdnuop!

Also, I'm not going to make a joke about Leslie's new nickname and Todd's questionable gender. I AM TAKING THE HIGH ROAD.

Dear Les,

Well, I don't think Lesi is the name for you. Les and Lesli would be O.K. I can't believe you asked if Danny was cute! I mean, he's only a child, besides you have "your Todd" remember. Anyway, O.K., what did you DO at the beach and I'm not being gross, Les. My cousin Allie is really cool and really nice! She took me to the mall yesterday and I got you a present. Wait and see what it is.

Your friend,
Hillary Diana

P.S. I'm changing my name to Hillary, OK?

If you've been paying attention, you may have noted that Andrea's wantin'-to-be-kissin' cousin is only six months younger than she is. An infant, clearly.

Dear Hillary,

You know I like that name! I think I'd like to meet Allie! She sounds cool! When I come back you have to take me to Vermont! Anyway, you have a sick mind! Todd and I went on a walk along the beach and then we went for a soda. Cool, huh!? Your right though, it was gross asking about Danny! I found out something you might be interested in! Todd has got a brother, TWin brother!

Write Soon

Chow-Chow, Taa

Lesli!

Nothing like a walk on the beach in winter. Good thing Australia is 90° year-round! I must say, though, I have my doubts about this intercontinental blind date scheme.

Dear Lesli,

You are right! Allie is cool! What's Todd's brother's name? And I don't have a sick mind!!! By the way, did you share a soda!?! O.K. I was only joking, Les. So when's the wedding? O.K. No more. I stopped. Allie is really nice! We went to the movies and she introduced me to Jeremy, this super-great seventh grader! My new name is Diane. Do you like that name? There are so many names. I hate the name "Andrea"!

Your friend,

Di

I don't know why I had all these characters who were dissatisfied with their names. I've always been kind of fond of mine. I do, however, remember constantly coming up with nicknames for myself (for example, Biff) that never, ever stuck. I can't imagine why.

Dear Di,

I've got a new image! I've got a totally COOL new wardrobe. Todd has this cousin, Glory, who is really cool and she went shopping with me! I got a cool pink skirt with a yellow shirt. So COOL! Todd and I went to the movies and he, well, he sort of, well..., he, uh, he KISSED ME! Uggg! asked me to go to a party with him. Glory helped me pick out this cool dress too! It's just so cool! Oh, yeah, Brian, well, he wants to meet you! But, it's going to be sort of hard for you to meet, but I gave him your address!

Chow-Chow, Taa

Lesli!

And that's it. I mean, if Katie was going to RENEGE ON THE KISSING (the hell?!), where was this story going to go? Plus, she totally stole my getting-made-over-by-a-cool-cousin plotline. Godammit! How was I ever going to top the pink skirt and yellow shirt combo??? She set the coolness bar way too high.

NEXT TIME: Fifth grade book reports, a.k.a. an excuse for 11-year-old me to write some pretty terrible jacket copy.

Until then... Chow-Chow, Taa!

Who Needs Another Mother?

This one was inspired by two great tastes that probably DON'T taste great together: the no-nonsense prose style of Paula Danziger... aaaaand kidnapping. For those of you who don't remember, kidnapping was HUGE in the '80s! It was like the Snuggie of 20 years ago. (Speaking of Snuggies, you could probably use one to lure unsuspecting children into your windowless van. "Want to try on my blanky? It has SLEEVES! Sleeves filled with candy!!!" Just brainstorming here...)

Nothing conspicuous about this, no siree.

[My mom gave us very strict instructions not to take any candy or other gifts from strangers. "And if someone tells you they'll take you to the toy store and buy you any toy you want," she prompted, "what do you say?" My sister quickly answered, "Thank you!"]

The late '80s and early '90s gave us a veritable smorgasbord of child stealing. For instance:

• In The Face on the Milk Carton, a teen girl sees her face on—you guessed it!—one of those Missing Child ads that were all the rage on dairy containers of the '80s. [Sidenote: What was up with that? The ones with the creepy age-progression photos were the worst/best. I was always hoping I'd recognize someone, because solving a crime at age 10 would have completely ruled.] Anyway, this book was awesome because the girl might have been kidnapped by Hare Krishnas (the hell?!), plus it was made into a TV movie starring Kellie Martin! Double the awesome! EDIT: I don't know HOW, but I forgot that the movie also had a CHARACTER NAMED SADA in it, making it awesome to the infinite power. Is it out on DVD yet?!
  
• How about the Diff'rent Strokes episode where Sam gets kidnapped? The kidnapper uses the old "Can you help me find my lost puppy?" line. Of course, the villains are just some sad couple who want to replace their dead son—not murderous child molesters like the kidnappers in real life.
• And of course there was I Know My First Name Is Steven, the TV miniseries in which Luke Edwards/Corky Nemec DOES get kidnapped by a child molester, because it's based on a true story. This miniseries scared the piss out of me. Almost as much as the one where Farrah Fawcett shoots her kids while "Hungry Like the Wolf" is playing. ALMOST.
  

Who Needs Another Mother? took more of the "lighthearted" Diff'rent Strokes–style approach to kidnapping, by which I mean the 'nappees didn't get touched in bad places or end up in a dumpster outside Burger King with their fingertips chopped off. (Fact: I've watched waaay too many true crime shows.) Nay, they were kidnapped out of LOVE!

But actually, we won't get to most of that. What we WILL get to is gratuitous descriptions of masticated potato chips and fat men in mismatched Hawaiian print. The kidnapping thing? Myeah, not so much.

Who Needs Another Mother?

School was out.

I graduated from fifth grade.

I'm scared about going to middle school.

So the key to writing like Paula Danziger is to use the first person, present tense. Obviously. But I was unaware that you also have to keep all of your paragraphs annoyingly short.

Today is the last day of school. Now I'm walking home. Well, what's going to be my home when Alicia hears about her uncle's will.

Alicia is my mom.

I don't remember calling her mom. I don't remember calling her anything but Alicia.

That's our first—and, actually, in these three chapters, ONLY—clue that Alicia is in fact NOT her mom. I seem to have called upon a reserve of subtlety previously absent in my writing—a subtlety wholly unhelpful for the purposes of the Kidnapping Foreshadowing.

I have a sister.

Her name is Justine.

Alicia calls her Tina.

I call her Brat.

Brat is a boy-crazy little snot. She wants to be a cheerleader. It's sexist to be a cheerleader. Besides, she's only 10.

A cheerleading Brat? I can't stop picturing this:

Sexist!!!

Also, is she wearing HIGH-TOP CHUCK TAYLORS? I don't want to think about this for too long.

I open the door.

"It's about time." Brat yells from the kitchen. She walks in, stuffing her face with potato chips. The pig. How does she stay so skinny?

Ummm... she's 10?

I ignore her.

"The house?" I ask Alicia.

"I'm glad you asked that question." says Alicia. She isn't smiling. "My uncle didn't leave me the house."

Brat pretends to faint in a chair.

A potato chip piece flies out of her mouth and onto my chin. How disgusting. [I second that...] I wipe it off.

"Did he leave you anything?" I ask.

Alicia sticks her tongue in her cheek. That's her annoying habit. "Well, this is so embarrassing." begins Alicia. "No. My uncle didn't leave me anything."

I'd like to know how they weaseled their way into the house in the first place. That Alicia must be one sweet-talkin' kidnapper.

"WHAT." I screech.

"Erin, calm down." Alicia says. She's blushing.

"Sorry, Alicia." I tell her.

"I'm sorry, Alicia." mimmicks Brat, pretending to cry. Brat also wants to be an actress, which will never happen because she can't act.

"I'm sorry, too." says Alicia, looking around. "Think of all the space."

I do.

Alicia is what some people would call a struggling artist. So we usually don't have a lot of money. I mean we buy food and clothes and shoes and art supplies and stuff. It's not like we're poor.

Homeless, yes.

Poor, no.

They are SO poor.

"So where are we going to live?" asks Brat. The snot. I was just about to say that.

"I'm glad you asked that question, Tina." says Alicia. She is sticking her tongue in her cheek.

Not a good sign.

"After I found out about Uncle Frank's will, it was about 1:00 so I decided to do some house-hunting." Alicia starts smiling. "And I found the perfect place. You guys are gonna love it."

WE'LL SEE ABOUT THAT, I think.

Uh, you'd think whole "homeless" thing would make Erin a little less picky. Who's the friggin' brat now?

Chapter Two

The place Alicia found wasn't just any place. Alicia lived in a boarding house before I was born. So this was kind of like a boarding house. Except it was like an apartment building too. It was a mansion.

The people who owned the house rented out the rooms, except they decided to put a sink and stove in each "apartment". So then it wasn't a boarding house or apartment building.

So, it's a mansion that's been converted into apartments. In other words, EXACTLY LIKE AN APARTMENT BUILDING. I lived in a house, so I didn't understand such distinctions.

Alicia wanted to rent half of the attic. There were four rooms in the attic, two big, two small, and one bathroom. Some people named the Walker's had rented the other half. Half was one big room and one small room. They had to share the bathroom.

A Quick Lesson in Being Poor: Poor people can't afford their own bathrooms.

Alicia decided to rent it that night. She asked them to get her a pole to hang a curtain on.

...And starving artists can't afford their own curtain rods.

When we get home, to Uncle Frank's home, we pack right away. I'm finished at 10:52.

Brat went to sleep at 9:47, but she's not done packing. Alicia calls for my help.

"I'm having a nervous breakdown." says Alicia. She is packing the dishes. "I'm having my mid-life crisis."

I believe Alicia is in her mid-30s.

"Really, Alicia." I say. "You're more responsible than that." I'm smiling.

"Erin." Alicia says. "Don't you lecture me about responsibility. Even if it is in humor." She isn't smiling.

That really hurt me.

It's like she can lecture us about anything and then we make a joke and she jumps on our backs and says don't lecture her, but she can lecture us, even if we were only joking.

It's like Erin keeps repeating herself and talking in circles and saying the same thing over and over.

What am I saying we for?

I meant me.

As you can see, I wasn't big on editing.

So I left Alicia to finish packing by herself. I always leave when I'm mad at her. Because when she does things like that it bugs me.

This is how mature kidnapper/kidnappee relationships work. Take note.

Now it's 9:14.

Brat finished packing 18 minutes ago.

Alicia stayed up last night and finished.

We eat doughnuts for breakfast. I eat the maple one. Maple is my favorite kind of doughnut.

Brat likes chocolate with chocolate sprinkles.

All that chocolate is going to catch up with her.

She'll have a million zits because she ate chocolate doughnuts for breakfast all this week. I can't wait to see her face next week.

Dude. She's 10. Plus, chocolate doesn't cause acne. That's an urban myth perpetrated by YA literature of the '80s.

* * * * *

Now we moved. We don't have any furniture, so we didn't need a truck or van or anything.

A Quick Lesson in Being Poor: Furniture? Nope. Can't afford it. But at least there's money for shoes and art supplies. And maple doughnuts!

We brought boxes over in Alicia's neon pink bug.

A pink Volkswagen?!?! Alicia is shattering all KINDS of kidnapper stereotypes!

But I bet she'll still give you free candy.

We get over to the house. The number on our door is 16. That's Brat's lucky number. YUCK.

Alicia wants us to seperate the big room in half. Half will be the bedroom and the other half will be Alicia's studio.

That's why she asked for the curtain pole thing.

She has me and Brat working away on sewing a loop in some old sheets.

The things we do for that woman.

There is a Knock at the door.

"Keep sewing." says Alicia. She runs to the door.

"Slavedriver." Brat whispers.

Aha! So maybe Alicia is part of some CHILD SLAVERY RING???

It's Mr Walker.

He looks really weird. He's really fat with tiny glasses. He's [wearing?] bulging Hawaiin print shirt and shorts that don't match. And he's wearing sandals. Can you believe it? SANDALS?

Oy, the mandals.

Although Mr. Walker was probably wearing Birkenstock knockoffs. Am I right or am I right?

I don't think I want to live next door to them.

Chapter Three

Mr. Walker's creepy family is walking in. Mrs. Walker is wearing a gray skirt and a white blouse. The skirt comes down to her ankles. She has straight gray and blond hair that comes down to her chin.

Mrs. Walker is hold a fat, almost bald baby in diapers. "I'm Carolyn and this is Clyde." Mrs. Walker says. She's pointing at the baby. The baby, Clyde, looks like Mr. Walker, with a frizzy puff of red hair on top of his head and gray eyes.

Be careful, little Clyde! Your new neighbor likes to STEAL KIDS!

Mrs. Walker pushes a girl in. "I'm Veronica." says the girl. She hands Alicia Something covered in foil. "Happy house-warming." she mutters, staring at her feet.

How ominous is it that the Something is capitalized? I fear it might be a Severed Head. Or a Tupperware's Worth of Pig Blood. Happy housewarming!

"You'll have to excuse Veronica." says Mrs. Walker, glaring at her. She's not in a very good mood."

I don't know what to make of Veronica. She's still staring at her feet. She has gray eyes and snarled red hair that comes down to her shoulders. She probably hasn't brushed it in weeks. She's very skinny and wearing a dirty green shirt with green and white striped shorts. And her shins are all black and blue. She's carrying yellow plastic sunglasses.

A Quick Lesson in Being Poor: Poor people are dirty and don't brush their hair. But they have rad sunglasses!

"And this is my son, Joel." says Mrs. Walker. "He's thirteen." She winks. What a major geek. I feel sorry for her kids.

Joel has red hair that's straight and brown eyes. He looks thirteen, with a lot of zits.

And that's where it ends. But I swear to you, this WAS going to be about kidnapping. Eventually. At some point. For sure. The preadolescent promo material gives us a glimpse of the drama that was to come:

WHO NEEDS ANOTHER MOTHER?

Erin and her sister, Justine, have lived all their lives with their mother, Alicia. Alicia is an artist and she never has very much money. So when they settle down in an apartment, Erin feels at home for the first time. She has even met her first friend since second grade. Then they find out Alicia isn't their real mother. Their mother disappeared and their baby-sitter, Alicia took them and kept them after their mother returned. The court gives them back to their real mother. Living with their new family is anything but easy. Erin is ready to give up. Who needs another mother? Not Erin. She just wants Alicia.

[I axed the "She just wants Alicia" line because I thought it made Erin sound like a big lesbian. I wish I was joking.]

So, hmmm. Their mother "disappeared" and their babysitter—instead of calling the police like ANY SANE INDIVIDUAL—was all, "What happened to my employer? Don't know. Oh well, guess I better keep these kids and move out of state and change our identities and relocate every few months." (Where was their mother anyway? Did SHE get kidnapped too?! Because a kidnapping within a kidnapping would be pretty stellar.)

I have no idea how the kidnapping was going to be revealed. I probably—you're going to be shocked!—hadn't thought that far ahead. The Face on the Milk Carton wasn't published until 1990, so that idea wasn't yet mine to steal.

I do remember that Erin and Justine were going to be returned to their real mother, who lived in Friendship, NY (but of course!) with her new hubby and his two kids. (What was up with Erin and Justine's dad? Bah! Who cares?)

I love how the promo material implies that the meat of the conflict is about whether Erin wants to stay with her real mom or return to Alicia. Like Alicia wouldn't be LOCKED UP IN FRIGGIN' PRISON.

NEXT TIME: Guest author Michelle treats us to an array of awesomeness, including a tale about Shorlock Homes the Cowgirl. That's right. Shorlock Homes. The COWGIRL. Get psyched!

My Diary, part one

I declared myself as a "writer" early on in my childhood. This meant I was doomed to receive, at a minimum, five diaries and/or blank books a year as gifts. I mean, I liked writing in a diary and all, but COME ON! I was no Anaïs Nin, people. For one thing, I was 11! There was no way on God's green earth that the trivial details of my life could fill five diaries a year. But the trivial details of a fictional character's life? That's an entirely different story. A story called My Diary.

Here's what the preadolescent promo material has to say about it:

MY DIARY

Jenny gets a diary to write all her feelings down in. She has a lot to write. Her best friend, Sarah, is home with pnemonia, she had a fight with her friend, Gretchen, and her friend, Abby, is scared to death of Gretchen. And she has to walk her six-year-old pesty sister home from school. Her parents divorce is final and her dad is moving to Maine. Then her grandpa she hardly knows has a heart attack and her whole life changes. She spends a lot of time in New York with her cousin, Ellen. Then her mom decides to move and Jenny is pulled away from her friends to a place where the only people she knows are her family. Jenny doesn't thinks she fits in at all.

Sorry, by the way, if I misled you with the title. For my (real) diary you have to go back a few entries. But the book HAD to be called My Diary because, well, that's what it said on the cover:


And OF COURSE I set out to create the most authentic fake diary the world had ever seen, switching up my writing implements for the various entries (I'll try to vary the font color here so you can get the full experience) and giving ol' Jenny a handwriting style that was, once again, eerily similar to Stacey McGill's.

Seriously, did anyone actually dot their i's with hearts? ANYONE?

My Diary

12/25/88

A diary! I swear I have always wanted a diary! Someplace to write my feelings where no one else can find them out. So here goes nothing, Diary:

My name is Jennifer Ann Scott. My best friend is Sarah Betsy Alton.

There were so many nicknames that confounded me as a child. Jack is a nickname for John? WHY? It's not even shorter! And it makes sense that Maggie and Meg are nicknames for Margaret—but PEG?! What? the? hell? It looks like we can add "Betsy" to the list too. Liz and Beth I was familiar with, yes, but apparently I believed Betsy to be a name in its own right.

I like to write. I swear I do. Sarah likes to draw. She is really good. I swear she is. I have wanted a diary ever since I read the diary of Anne Frank. I swear that was the best book. So now I am so, so glad Sarah bought me this for Christmas/Hanukkah. (She is Jewish)

Nope, Alton doesn't sound Jewish to me either.

I swear I will get her a better present next year. So in Anne Frank she named her diary "Kitty". That was so, so cool! So I am going to give you a name. ASHLEY. That name is so, so pretty. I swear, that is the best name. Good bye, Ashley!

Your Pal,
Jen

Ashley! That is soooo 20 years ago. Now the diary's name would be Madison. Or Ava. Or maybe Isabella or Sophie.

12/27/88

Dear Ashley,

Yesterday we went to see a play. My brother, Anthony, was in it. He was good. I swear he was! Gosh, I didn't tell you about my family, did I? Well, my parents are separated. They have been for 3 years. I swear they have. They are going to get a divorce soon. I live with my mom. She is so, so nice. Much nicer than dad. He deserted us. "US" is me, 10½, Anthony (TONY), 13, Lucy (LUCILLE), 6, and mom. We visit him every month. He never sees us for the holidays, but he sends us Christmas gifts and stuff on our birthdays. Sometimes I really miss my dad. He was so, so nice. And grouchy. I swear he's the grouchiest person ever.

My parents are still together, so I was pulling this divorce stuff out of my ass. That may explain why Jen sounds like she has a personality disorder when she talks about her dad.

Mom just told me I have to walk Lucy home when school starts! YECH! I swear I will die. Lucy is such a pest! She is so, so pesty!

I am so, so ripping off the BSC. At least Lucy doesn't call anyone a silly-billy-goo-goo. I hope.

12/18/88

Dear Ashley,

"Scott" is dad's last name. His name is Jason Scott. My mom's name is Edith Fields. She used to be Edith Scott. Now she hates the name Scott. I say we should have named Anthony "Scott". The he'd be "Scott Scott". Mom just says "HA HA" like it isn't really funny at all.

I'm with you, Edith.

It really snowed today! We went outside and froze up. There was no Hot Chocolate when we came in either. Mom was really mad. She blew up and started saying how no one ever appreciates what she does.

I suspect this may have been inspired by real-life bratty hot chocolate demands and my mom's subsequent outrage.

I think she was just mad because the roads were blocked and she was stuck here with us. Lucy wanted her to read to her all day. I swear, she is such a pest! I was so, so cold. Anthony hit me in the face with a snowball. I swear, I will kill him. He is so, so dumb to mess with me!

12/30/88

Dear Ashley,

I know we haven't had a good talk yet. I want to tell you about boys. They're no new discovery. Yep, they've been around.

Jenny = No Magellan.

Some are so, so cute, too! I swear I have never like any of them as much as I like the one I like now. He is so, so perfect I can't believe I didn't notice him before. His name is Todd Swartz. He has brown hair that is cut so, so cool.

I can only imagine what that would look like. Considering our frame of reference in 1988, we could be talking about this:


Or this:


Or, MAN ALIVE, even this:


But brown, of course.

He has blue eyes. I swear they are bluer than blue. He is nice. "Maybe even too nice", my friend Gretchen says. She is so suspicious. She wants to be a detective. "He may be plotting to use us." I ignore her then. Sarah says she is only teasing, but she is so, so annoying. I swear she is terrible. Really she is. I don't see how I put up with her! And Ashley, you can call me Jen or Jenny. Everyone does. There are too many Jennifers!

And NONE of them go by Jen or Jenny. Absolutely none! Although the idea of the diary "calling" her anything is deeply flawed to begin with.

12/31/88

Dear Ashley,

These are my New Year's resolutions:

#1. I will get out of walking pesty Lucy home from school.
#2. I will go with Todd Swartz by the end of the year.
#3. I will make Gretchen stop teasing me somehow.
#4. I will buy Sarah a better gift for Christmas.

Shouldn't that be Hanukkah? What did she get her, anyway? A cassingle of "Don't Worry, Be Happy"? Actually, I would have been pretty psyched about that gift in 1988. Never mind.

#5. I will try out for the school play this Spring.
#6. I will get a better grade in Science.
#7. I will get even with Miss Litzco, the Science teacher.
#8. I will write a truly great piece of writing (Poetry, story, etc.)
#9. I will go in the boys' bathroom with Sarah and Gretchen.
#10. I will get Anthony for good.

I swear I will do all these things. Even the ones that are so, so gross.

My friends and I also accomplished Goal #9, but sadly, it was not nearly as gross as we had imagined.

1/1/89

Dear Ashley,

I slept over Sarah's. We watched them drop the ball from wherever they drop it from on New Year's eve.

I was a deeply cultured child.

The year has gone by so quick. It didn't even seem like Christmas this year. Except for when we opened presents any way. Sarah said she feels the same way. So do Gretchen and Abby.

This was based on real-life sentiment. I later realized it didn't feel like Christmas because it was the first year we didn't get toys. We had offically entered tweendom, and it was kind of lackluster.

Abby is another good friend of mine except she is so shy. She is also FAT if you ask me, but we don't say anything because her main resolution is to lose weight. She is on a strict diet.

Because it's okay to be fat ONLY if you're self-loathing and trying NOT to be fat. Got that?

I love January and December. My birthday is on January 23rd. I cannot wait! Sarah is visiting her aunt for 3 days, starting tomorrow. I am visiting my father tomorrow. We are staying overnight. I can't wait to see my father. I swear I haven't seen him since last year (HA! HA!)!

Thank you, thank you! Try the meatloaf! I'll be here all week!

It is so, so fun visiting dad.

1/4/89

Dear Ashley,

Sorry I couldn't take you to Dad's house, but I swear I could not find you. Mom SAID she found you under my mattress. I don't believe her. That excuse is so, so flimsy. I know she wanted to find out my innermost feelings. Too bad she doesn't know where I hide the key! Dad took us out to dinner at McDonald's. I swear he could live there. He always takes us to McDonald's.

Well. If I lived at McDonald's, I'd be pretty grouchy too.

We played Pictionary. I was on Tony's team. Lucy cannot draw. I swear she can't. We watched this movie on T.V. Julie Andrews was in it. She was so, so good. We went to Denny's for breakfast. I swear they have the best food. It was so, so "yummy." "Yummy" is Pesty Lucy's word. Dad brought us home. Then Tony and I watched Lucy while Mom and Dad settled something with the lawyer.

1/5/89

Dear Ashley,

Sarah is not back from her aunt's like she is supposed to be. We are supposed to be going to the movies tomorrow to see TWINS. "It's so, so good!" people tell me.

They are so, so wrong. I swear.

I swear I will kill her if she doesn't get back in time. I went skating with friends today. Tony likes this girl. He kept showing off at the skating rink. Abby kept falling over so then Gretchen got mad and said get off the wall so Abby started crying but she wouldn't get off the ice. She just sort of collapsed. Gretchen kept saying what a baby Abby was. I think it was Gretchen's fault but I didn't tell it. Was it Abby's fault she wasn't steady on her feet? NO!!! Then Gretchen started calling Abby "FATSO" and stuff. So I got really mad and said, "OH shut up and shove it! You're so nosey and you're always picking on other people. JERK!"

FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!

We aren't speaking to each other anymore.

1/6/88

Dear Ashley,

Pink Pen, Pink Paper. I swear I have been looking all over for this pen. But pink isn't my favorite color. Blue is. A lot of pens have blue ink though. I like wearing blue because it brings out the color in my eyes.

Oh yeah, do you guys want to know what Little Miss "There Are Too Many Jennifers" looks like?


My favorite thing about this picture? No, it's not the suspenders, or the triangle belt, or the Mallory Pike-y apple print shirt. It's not Jen's lopsided face, her over-application of blush, or the fact that she has the hands of an infant. What I like is that it wasn't ME who drew this. NO—according to the monogram in the corner, this stunner was created by one Sarah Betsy Alton.

It snowed real bad out here. Sarah is stranded in some restaurant in the middle of no where. Her aunt was driving her and her 3-year-old brother Adam (he is so, so sweet and cute) home. There was a real bad snow storm. A BLIZZARD!!!!! This old guy found them and let them stay at his restaurant. He lives above in an apartment.

Imagine Sarah's great disappointment when she FINALLY gets stranded due to a blizzard... and ends up in some old dude's restaurant instead of at the house of her beloved. Oh, the humanity.

Her parents called my mom about the movies. I feel so, so sorry for Sarah. I swear I will be nicer now that I know some of the things she's gone through. I don't know if I could've made it safely!

Jen totally would have perished in the old dude's restaurant. Thank God Sarah is so strong! She's a veritable ROCK, that one.

NEXT TIME: The rock gets pneumonia (not so tough after all, eh, Sarah?) and Gretchen gets bitchier.

Syra Cuse

I think the Cuses were the first residents of Friendship, NY. I don't mean back in colonial times or anything (in fact, as you'll read, they've only recently moved to town), just that I believe Syra and her family were the first characters that I relegated to Friendship-dom. This "book" appears to have been written before the series was even a twinkle in my eye. Well, okay, it might have been a twinkle—but the story is set in Buffalo.

SYRA CUSE
Chapter #1.

I always thought I had it real bad. My last name was Cuse. I was born in Syracuse, New York. So my mom thought, wouldn't it be cute if they named me "Sara". Except she had to go and make it cuter by spelling it "S-Y-R-A". So people think my name is "Seara". I wish my parents were normal. Then I wouldn't have to grow up with a dumb name like "Syra Cuse". I can't wait till I can change my name. Only 8 7½ 7 8 8 years to go.

Looks like I was having some math issues. Or deciding-on-the-age-of-the-character issues. Possibly both.

But anyway, I must admit Syra Cuse is a pretty dumb name. It may have been inspired by my discovery of the real-life naming tragedy of Ima Hogg, but I'm not sure. At any rate, it could be worse. Instead of Syra Cuse her name could be Crystal Chanda Leer, Amanda Lay, or April Schauer. And if she was a boy? Well, CRAP, it only gets worse! Dick Swett and Mike Hunt are just the tip of the iceberg. Buck up, Syra!

[Sidenote: I once dated a Mike Hunt for, like, three weeks. I have scads of bad-name cred. Feel free to nominate your worst real-life names in the comments!]

I actually didn't know that Cuse was a real last name until I started watching LOST. Maybe Carlton Cuse is Syra's uncle! In some story, somewhere, I had a character who claimed to be related to Debbie Gibson (total lie) and another character who was related to Richard Marx (for realsies), but she didn't like to brag.

We don't live in Syracuse anymore, thank god. We just moved to Buffalo this summer. School starts in 3 weeks. I'm nervous. I hate new schools. We move around too much. It's like I never make any friends. Well, I used to when I was just a little kid. Now there doesn't seem to be any point in it. To move away and feel bad about it. NO THANK YOU.

10-year-olds, so worldly.

I live with my mom. She just quit her job in Philadelphia as a secretary for the T.E.J. paper company. Because we were moving. It was just as well, she's pregnant again. Of course. I live with dad, too. He builds cars for Pontiac.

Actual parental occupations! Nuh-uh! I am now picturing Mrs. Cuse as Pam Beesly, but with a belly full o' baby. And I'm picturing Mr. Cuse in Michigan.

I live with Toby, too. He's my brother who's 12. He's a car maniac. He has car posters all over the walls. We can just be thankful there aren't naked women draped over the cars. [Consider me thankful.] I also have two little baby sisters, Gloria who's 7 and Evie (Evelyn) who's 4. I'm 10. Our cat, Smoky, just had babies. I guess I should take that as a good omen since kid #5 is on the way. My kitten, Paws, is white with tan on her tail, feet and nose. Toby's is Kal-Kan, Gloria, who got the pretty white one, named her's Milk, Evie's is Chocolate Bar, and Mom named the baby's Apple Sauce.

Those cats are making me hungry.

So, I didn't want to go to school. I had a nightmare Friday night. I dreamt I fell and hit my head on the way to school so I didn't remember anything, not even my name. Except the kids and teacher looked through my stuff and saw "SYRA CUSE" written all over and had a big fight over whether my name was "Seara" or "Sie-ra". I kept screaming those aren't my names, but nobody paid any attention... then I woke up.

Holy amnesia anxiety dream!

I almost fell out of bed. That doesn't sound so bad, but it is if you sleep on the top of a bunk bed. If I did fall and Gloria was asleep (she sleeps on the bottom bunk), I'd fall on Evie. Me, Evie, and Gloria share a room. There's a bunk bed. On the bottom there's this little drawer right off the floor. You pull it out and it's a bed. Well, a matress in a drawer.

I guess Evie sleeps on the mattress-in-a-drawer (or its complicated technical name, trundle bed).

There are 3 bedrooms in our house: Girls, Parents, and Toby.

Toby's room is really small. He's lucky it's his own, being a boy and all.

Yeah, enjoy it while you can, Tobe, because during the course of this book the Cuses were also going to take in a 6-year-old homeless boy who was just, you know, hanging around their house looking hungry. Homeless kids, they're kind of like stray cats!

Well, this morning when I woke up, it was dark outside. It was 8:03. [It's supposed to be August, so I'm thinking... not possible.] So, I went downstairs wearing a long T-shirt. My parents were sitting at the table. Dad was reading the paper. Mom was drinking a cup of coffee. I patted mom's stomach. She was so big already. [Because... she's having triplets! Surprise, Cuses! Your obstetrician is a total hack!] "I can feel him/her kick." I said.

And that's where the inspiration died. But not the babies! They were totally born. The preadolescent promo material reveals a few more plot points:

SYRA CUSE
Syra Cuse is sick of her name. Her whole life is a joke. They've just moved in and right away her perfect little sister [Gloria, whose perfectness was oh-so-subtly symbolized earlier by her pristine white kitten] has wrapped everyone around her little finger. The only thing that's going for Syra are her friends, Murphy and Chelsea. But everyone else thinks that Chelsea is conceited [she's loaded] and that Murphy stole some things over at Eleanor's house. [Eleanor Jefferson! Also loaded, but for some reason deemed not conceited.] So they stick Syra right in the middle. She knows Murphy is innocent and that Chelsea is rich, but she's still nice. But how can she explain that to her whole grade? [Hopefully by using a sentence that's phrased a little less awkwardly.] On top of everything else, her mom's having triplets. Her family is just the ten of us. How will she survive?

And if you think that's going to be the last Just the Ten of Us reference in my works, you are sorely mistaken.

Anyway, don't worry! There's more Syra Cuse action in Friendship: The Book, so we may as well get to know her and her friends a little better. I know, FRIENDS! Didn't see that coming!

First we have Syra, which, by the way, I cannot stop reading as the dreaded "Seara." Sandra and Carl, what were you thinking? (Those are her parents' names. I checked the town census. OH MY HOLY GOD, you guys! Carlton Cuse isn't her uncle, he's her DAD! And he produces the mindfuck that is LOST! This is amazing! Who's loaded now, Eleanor?) Um, but yeah, the character sketches:


My mom wrote a comment on the last post asking whether I disliked drawing hands. The answer is YES, thanks for asking. In fact, I had a problem with all appendages. As you can see here, I redrew Syra's hands and yet she still ended up with a freakishly undersized left extremity. Maybe that mass of friendship bracelets is blocking the flow of blood to her fingers, resulting in a lack of growth? She also has a friendship anklet—but it doesn't seem to have prevented her feet from morphing into bricks of flesh with teeny-tiny toe fringe. If I were you, Syra, I'd put some shoes on.

Also, you'd think that someone who hates her name so much would refrain from wearing T-shirts that that advertise it (see above her left not-yet-a-breast).

Next we have Chelsea. I loooooved the named Chelsea. One of my unborn children was slated to be a Chelsea at this point in time. Chelsea Burroughs appears to have a Stacey McGill–type perm going here, but honestly, guys? I'm kinda into her cowl-neck dress and crazy sunburst belt. Yeah, I would so wear that belt. But our fashion-forward pal is busting a serious deer in the headlights look. And we may or may not have caught her in the middle of the "put your left hand in" verse of "The Hokey Pokey."


But if Chelsea looks surprised, Murphy's on the verge of tears. Which makes sense given the false thievery accusations. Or the pain it must cause her stunted neck to support her massive, massive head. Beyond that, she has a nice late-'80s layered skirt on. Man, did I love those skirts. But now I'm confused: Does Chelsea have the perm or does Murphy? I think Murphy has naturally curly hair that she brushes when dry. WHY does no one tell you as a child not to brush your hair when dry?


Wait, is Syra the only one with friendship bracelets on? Well that's plain crazy, because we know she doesn't have any other friends! Unless she's given them to Paws and Kal-Kan.

I have one more picture before I go, and this one really showcases how far I'd go to avoid drawing limbs.

Or else some accident was going to render Murphy a serious amputee. Either way, Murphy Got Her Gun looks pretty appalled. You can also see that her last name used to be McGraw. That clearly had to be changed. Though I couldn't tell you why.

NEXT TIME: An alternate first day of school in the Friendship Super Special. Chapter 1's narrator? Syra "That's Pronounced Sara, My Mom's Just a Dumbass" Cuse.

Adria and Cynthia Tyler, the Characters Whose Books Have the Longest Titles Ever

Previously we met Adrianne Tyler, best known for her übershiny eyes and for masterminding acts of pseudo-vandalism.


(Hey, are those rhinestone-studded moccasins on her feet? I vote yea.)

But she looks surprisingly nondevious, don't you think? What would make a mild-mannered fifth grade girl act out in such a slimy-food-smearing and school-hating way? If you guessed "problems at home," well, pat yourself on the back, my friend. The Book Information file elaborates:

ADRIA TYLER, THE GIRL WHO HAD SOMETHING MORE THAN NOTHING

Adria Tyler has never been one of those people who think they have nothing. Adria knows she has something. Even though her father is dead, her mother can't find a job, one of her sisters wants to leave the country, the other one is pregnant, her brother refuses to speak, and her best friend tells her she's never speaking to her again, Adria won't give up. She can't. She's the only thing holding her family together.

Whoa! Those are, like, ACTUAL PROBLEMS! Granted, most of them aren't really Adria's problems per se, but they are problems all the same. Death of a parent? Teenage pregnancy, for crying out loud?! I, for one, am a little taken aback.

I even started writing the Kim vs. Adria fight scene:

"What?" shrieked Kim. "What do you mean? You promised, Adria. You promised you'd come over after school today."

"Sorry." I said sheepishly. "Really I am. It's just... mom went out for a job interview, and she needed a sitter for Mike. I'm sorry... you know how it is, Kim."

She lowered her eyes. "Yeah," she sniffed. "Your family always comes first with you."

I shrugged.

"You promised." she accused.

"Kim, I thought you'd understand." I argued. "I thought..."

"You thought what?" she asked coldly. "Did you think we'd be friends forever? If you did, you were WRONG." she yelled, yanking off her half of our "BEST FRIENDS" necklace. She threw it on the ground and stomped off.

FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! Oh wait, that's it. Guess the friendship pact has been violated.

But since Adria's family always comes first with her anyway, let's take a look-see at the Tyler family portrait.

They all look surprisingly upbeat, especially considering the hot mess described in the preadolescent promo material. Carolyn Tyler, a mother at 22 and an unemployed widow at 37? Well, yes, but if you believe her sweatshirt, also a SUPER MOM.

Then there's Julie, an entire Lifetime movie unto herself. In most versions of this story (which were written in my mind and not on actual paper), her baby daddy was Kim Fielding's 15-year-old brother, Roger. That's right, the one who served his little brother a snack of racquet balls topped with shaving cream. Try to push aside the frightening images of Roger giving the baby a dribble bottle for a second to ponder this: THAT DUDE WAS GETTING LAID?

In the family portrait, however, we see nary a baby bump. In fact, Julie looks like she's ready for the Homecoming dance or something. Check out the overly sweet sweetheart neckline. If that dress had shoulders, they would totes be padded.

Adria has even perked up for the, uh, drawing op. Yes, she still gravitates toward henleys and nondescript skirts, but check out her hip squiggle earrings. And she and Mike the Mute are so stoked, they appear to be floating in midair! Be sure to note the Mute's Chuck Taylors and brontosaurus shirt (or whatever they're calling the brontosaurus these days).

But it's 9½-year-old Cynthia (aka The One Who Hates the World) who is really the star of this portrait—mostly due to her sleeveless sweater dress, totally '80s triangle belt, and array of squiggly jewelry. You'd never guess that she spends her days coming up with highly unrealistic plots for sneaking out of the country. (More on that in a sec.)

But first, don't you want to see the layout of the second floor of their house? That was a rhetorical question—obviously you would love to! (Go ahead and click if you want to see just how bizarrely T-shaped Adria's room is.)



First off, how enormous is their house? You can fit about 10 full-size beds in Cynthia's room alone! Or 15 Def Leppard area rugs, one of which appears to be sprawled out on her floor. Uh, maybe the Tylers should think about downsizing, what with the prolonged unemployment and all. Just a thought.

Obviously I had never seen a blueprint in my life. My parents would always look at my floor plans and be all, "Where are the stairs? How about the closets? The doors?" Frigging realistic killjoys. As you can see, I tried to appease them by marking all the doors in this one. Closets and stairs were fraught with spatial complications that I was having no part of.

Then I started laying down some background info for each character. But naturally, I only made it through the first two.

INFO FOR ADRIA TYLER
Characters

Name: Michael Tyler, Mike

Hair: Dark Brown, messy, looks like it's never brushed, short

Age: 6

Eyes: Dark Brown, bright [It's hereditary!]

Best Friend: Mrs. Bottenhigher, his teacher

Likes: Mrs. Bottenhigher, school, T.V.,

Dislikes: Talking, the fact that dad died, questions

Wants to: Bring dad back, become a super hero, solve everyone's problems

Description: Small, timid, frightened of death, smart, couch potato, eager to learn about everything,

PLAGIARISM ALERT! The whole "child going mute after his dad dies" subplot was definitely lifted from the movie Scrooged. Bill Murray's secretary, portrayed by Alfre Woodard, has a son who has also stopped talking following his father's death. But he heartwarmingly/cheesily busts out the Tiny Tim "God bless us, everyone" line at the film's close. [Please note that most of Scrooged is not in the vein of cheese, and is actually fairly awesome.]

Naturally, Mike too would break his vow of silence, probably in the book's dramatic final scene. Or, oooooh, maybe Julie would give birth in an elevator—because that was always a very popular, yet disturbing, plot twist in '80s sitcoms—and Mike, through some plot contrivance stroke of fate would somehow be the only one with her, and be forced to deliver the child! I mean, if ALF can deliver a baby in an elevator, I don't see why a 6-year-old suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder can't. At the very least, it would call for some dialogue.

INFO FOR ADRIA TYLER
Character

Name: Cynthia Marie Tyler, call me Cynthia

Age: 9½

Hair: Brown, just above shoulders, side bangs(wavy), Eyes: Brown, soft

Best Friend: Alexis Creen

Likes: Alexis, creation pages [don't worry, we'll get to those], Def Leppard [in case the area rug didn't tip you off], writing

Dislikes: The world, school, usually my family,

Wants to: Sneak out of the country [um, hate to burst your bubble, Cynthia, but you'll still be in "the world"], help Alexis be more creative

Description: Cute, stubborn, creative, unusual, original, often loud, always shares ideas, can't keep a secret, [Yeah, that definitely won't be a problem when she tries to sneak out of the country.]

The rest of the stuff in this folder is Cynthia-related. You know what that means: creation pages and abject world hatred!

The world is a hateful lousy place. I wish you'd all drop dead. No one cares no one understands. I hate you all

Cynthia M. Tyler
C. Tyler
Cynthia Marie Tyler
C.M. Tyler
C.M.T.
C.T.
C.

The hell? Shouldn't she be coming up with aliases or something?

WAYS TO SNEAK OUT OF THE COUNTRY:

1.) SAY I'M MIDGET.
2.) PAY SOMEONE TO BE (FAKE) PARENTS.
3.) BRIBE!

WHAT I NEED TO DO:
1.) GET MONEY
2.) GET PASSPORT PICTURES TAKEN
3.) PACK
4.) GET CREDIT CARDS
5.) FIND SOMEWHERE TO GO!

Brilliant! I love how she's packing before she's even selected a destination. I think the midget thing could work if the Lightening Bolts are somehow working security at the airport. They'd probably also take a bribe.

And here's call-me-Cynthia's "creation page":

haiku

def leppard is cool
move to the beat of the song
radio blasting

Wow, she is really into Def Leppard. I have two Def Leppard–centric elementary school memories:

1) Playing "Pour Some Sugar On Me" on the jukebox at a bevy of Pizza Huts while on vacation. It was ALWAYS the #1 requested song, no matter the location of the Pizza Hut. Red light, yellow light, green light, GO!

2) Being in Gym class and tucking one arm inside my oversized Gym shirt to emulate the one-armed drummer. Which I might feel bad about if Rick Allen hadn't subsequently beat his wife with his remaining arm.

Sometimes I wonder by Cynthia M. Tyler

I wonder how the world got to be round
How people learned to be
How things make sound
and
How God thought of me

In case you haven't caught on yet, Creation Page = Unbelievably bad poetry.

C.M.T.

Creative
Young
No
Terrific
Horrid
Intelligent
Awful

Oh man, an acrostic, the sorriest excuse for a poem. Well, the H definitely doesn't stand for Humble, I can tell you that much. But what's up with No?

All By Myself

I'm all by myself and all alone
Sad as can be
I'm all by myself except
For me, myself, and I

Cynthia Marie Tyler...

Is smart, witty, wonderful, creative, nasty, cute in a way, true, and me

Nasty?

I'm 10

I'm 10 I'm 10
O Joy O Joy
The world is at peace
And I'm old enough to enjoy it

Because life cannot be enjoyed when you're a mere 9-year-old.

THE END OF CREATIVE PAGE

But it's not really the end, because all of this creative creativity was supposed to inspire Cynthia's boring friend Alexis to come up with some craptacular verses of her own. Here she is, Alexis Creen:


I was always drawing them in the most natural poses, wasn't I? Here, for example, Alexis is getting ready for her crucifixion. With braces!

ALEXIS'S CREATION PAGE

Attentive
Learning
Economical
X-tra Special
Intelligent
So-so

Oh, Alexis. I know I made fun of Cynthia's inflated ego, but So-so? Attentive? Economical??? That's the best you could come up with? More like Arid, Easily influenced, and Self-loathing. But on the bright side, maybe she can help Cynthia save up for her big trip.

Action-packed fun for everyone
Starring Alexis L. Creen
And some other people too

Huh? My best guess here is that Alexis was an aspiring actress. And this was the poorly titled film that would make her famous?

Christmas is a time for
Giving
Loving
Caring
Sharing
And
Getting everything you ask for

Nothing like a little holiday brattiness cheer.

Famous

If I was famous (I will be soon) I'd be happy to sign autographs for my adoring fans. They would be happy that I was famous instead of them. (Ha ha)

C$R$E$A$T$I$O$N

THE END
OF ALEXIS'S FAMOUS CREATION PAGE

And the end of the hodgepodge contents of this folder. Egad. It's amazing that hatred for the entire earth managed to be the more lighthearted topic here.

NEXT TIME: We'll try to follow a more linear narrative with Syra Cuse. God willing.