Party.

Writing characters backward is difficult. I think I forgot my responses and a copy of Beth's piece. Well, the truth of the matter is, is that I didn't see them in my backseat when I left my car, but I retain some vague memory of carrying them out under my arm [is that a comma splice? I'm sad to say that I'm uncertain]. I wonder if I just happened to walk as if I was carrying something under my arm, but in fact wasn't.

This would be utter sadness. I'd be the laughing stock of Milford entire. Ruin! Absolute and total ruin. My dreams of celebrity in Milford high society and small-town politics would be dashed. I can only hope that no one from the Shoreline Chronicle was about practicing their tenebrous trade.

Ah, as Unky Ambrose would declare, “Such is life, young Stephen, such is life.”

Thinking of him now, I’m reminded of the time when Uncle Ambrose attached a cylindrical object to his abdomen. I mean, hello! Totally freaking zany!

A beetle less than a quarter inch long and a sixteenth of an inch wide just landed on my monitor. I love him.