It’s me Mongoose. Why don’t you ever write me back? HAVEN’T I BEEN GOOD TO YOU?! DO YOU THINK YOU’RE BETTER THAN ME YOU SONUVABITCH! I KILLED YOU AND MADE YOU AND I CAN DO IT AGIAN! Wait… my head hurts.. why did I write that? Oh yes, you’re dead dear diary, you’re a dead thing like me… a dead tree enemy, the best kind of enemy… I’m sorry I have to keep you locked in the trunk, it’s for the best. I wouldn’t want Reinholdt to get crayon all over you. Being pack priest isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. A pack of priests? I like it here, so few trees, not like ancient gual, that place was a hell-hole of trees, all over everywhere scrabbling with their claws at my face, WITH THEIR GODDAMN HEIGHT ADVANTAGE! Never trust the trees… always so still whenver every one else looks at them, but always mocking me…
I miss the Professor so much… he was such a wise young man, with his scruffy hair, and his eager attention to learn… I was such a good student, it’s too bad I was so bad at all of my studies, and that he was such an ASS! I saw the visions, sometimes I even knew what they meant! Not my fault my beloved Professor couldn’t see a damn thing, not my fault he was such a bad student…
We keep stealing time, not you and I, you store my time dear diary. No, no the Time Bandits and I. We’ve stolen it from the Savage Huns and Satan’s Mothers (and some vroom-vroom bikes too), and the High Hats and the Electric Lemonaders… such a great name… Why didn’t I think of that name? NO IT’S NOT BECAUSE I’M STUPID! I STUDIED MEDICINE AT YALE! OR HARAVARD! PROBABLY BOTH!
I got the autograph of their leader, that was nice… If I wasn’t a Pack of Priests I might join them, they know who the REAL enemy is, they told me so! But what are the Time Bandits without my broken wrist-watches? Stupid clocks, TIK-TOK at me WILL YOU! Not so mouthy now Mr. Clock are you?
I had another dream during the day, not a day dream, that’s what’s happening right now… Dreams and dreamers are all there is… reality… such a funny, stupid, WORTHLESS word… Now, now… I can make this a nice daydream tonight, not like the scary one where the wall flew away and we had to get it back from Satan’s Mother. That wasn’t a nice dream. I think it scared Becca too… My dream of the day was about a soup I think. We were all in it. Boil, roil, toil, and trouble as the cauldron brewed and bubbled. There I saw Becca’s hand, but no Becca. Not so unusual, Becca has… four hands now? I have trouble remembering. The book of medicine that is not about medicine whispered things to me with speaking. Sometimes I remember it one way, sometimes another… it told me of magic, of rituals… of dead flesh coming live. WHAT NONSENSE! Dead flesh can’t come live… Me? What are you talking about Diary? How am I alive! DAMMIT DIARY! I’ve told you before! I’m not alive! This is just slow acting rigor mortis.
Oh yes! The nightmare of the day! There were other bits. Vincent’s ear, but not his head. Double dragons split in twain twice… I guess that would make them octople dragons? Becca’s hands… all of them flaoting with me in the pot. It smelled like ginger, the pot… whatever the hell ginger is… or smells like… is ginger real? No matter, the others don’t lessen anyways. There were vegetables and colorful hats made soggy. The steam scalded and the Electric Lemonaders had no lemonade to quench anyone’s thirst. A strange dream. I saw the Highest of High Hats, lifted out in a spoon, and whom was there to sup? Why Ghengis Khan himself of course, noodles across his wide mustache. The pot burns like the sun, the water gives no comfort… I hope this night isn’t a nightmare and that my next waking is far more restful.
I don’t like the High Hats, they’ll sell us out to the Cammies, I know they will. Oh vincent & becca where did we go wrong? We were going to steal ALL the time in the world… no more tikking, no more tokking, just… GOD DAMMIT REINHOLDT YOU MAY NOT PLAY WITH YOUR CRAYONS ON THIS!