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Entry date: 12-11-2023 – Two Mondays Left (mini Bet) – Letters to My Friends

 Dear Friends,

One of my little weird brain things is to keep track of the days left in the school year. At some point, I start counting down the days of the week, too. Right now, for example, we have 19 Mondays and Fridays left in the year. There are 21 of each of the other days of the week, but we are less than 20 on Mondays and Fridays. Only 2 Mondays and one Friday left in this calendar year, too.


I’m interested to see which version of the Cocaine Baby (it feels like I should always be capitalizing his name) will show up today. Hopefully his mouth healed up over the weekend. If they wouldn’t just destroy it, I would get a Nerf football for the class, but I’d be better off just lighting the $10 on fire. Children destroy things that are just given to them. This is the natural law.




A quiet house on a quiet street. If you were to hover over the top, you would have no idea of the sadness, fear, and confusion lying beneath. While Paul, Marcy, Winny, and Billy slept somewhat fitfully, Jimmy silently paced through the rooms.


He was trapped here.


What was it about Marcy, he wondered, that had made him come to life. He had no clue why he was here now, outside of the film he loved so much. He couldn’t have explained love, but it was word in the script and when it was around, he got to feel really good.


He knew how to laugh and be sarcastic, too. That was in the script. He knew how to lay motionless and pretend to be in a coma. That was also in the script. He knew how to get the girl.


So, why couldn’t he get Marcy?


Jimmy sat down near the bottom of the stairs and looked out over the entry way and into the den. He knew these rooms, too, but they were not in the script. This, too, was confusing for him.

Sure, it’s a new brain, he thought, but still. He almost couldn’t remember being anywhere else.




See you tomorrow.

Same lake as yesterday.

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