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// -- Begin Journal Note #440321 - - >

Dear Diary,
Its a saturday. I'm bored and John the cute guy down the street saw me tanning next to the pool a couple days ago. I felt so fat. I mean I know I'm 230lb but seriously I had a one piece on...

Thats all I read up to. John had himself a deal. Sure it wasn't the first time I'd done something like this but I sure did wish it was my last. Gun for hire. Or as this job subjected, Diary exploiter extraordinaire. It had all began back in my high school days. The first one, Sarah Miller. What a whiner. She must've had three years of crushes, oh-my-goshes and 'Mom and Dad hate me!''s. It was the greatest feeling in the world when I tore page by page her past. Then it was for the pure joy of it. Now, it was simply a favor for a friend. The kind that back you in the corner via pity and let you bend backwards via guilt.

His culprit, Jenny Nash, was one screwy, piggy, broad. Talk about nobel prize winning literature - She must've had the most consecutive uses for the metaphorical 'like'. I even remember reading a passage that simply stated, 'Like like like'.

So the story went, Jenny fell asleep. I snuck in, stole that candy apple camouflaged contraption and headed straight for a paper shredder. One look inside. Not a pint of guilt.

// -- End Journal Note #440321. Special Agent Thomas. - - >

Description
// -- Begin Journal Note #440321 - - >

Dear Diary,
Its a saturday. I'm bored and John the cute guy down the street saw me tanning next to the pool a couple days ago. I felt so fat. I mean I know I'm 230lb but seriously I had a one piece on...

Thats all I read up to. John had himself a deal. Sure it wasn't the first time I'd done something like this but I sure did wish it was my last. Gun for hire. Or as this job subjected, Diary exploiter extraordinaire. It had all began back in my high school days. The first one, Sarah Miller. What a whiner. She must've had three years of crushes, oh-my-goshes and 'Mom and Dad hate me!''s. It was the greatest feeling in the world when I tore page by page her past. Then it was for the pure joy of it. Now, it was simply a favor for a friend. The kind that back you in the corner via pity and let you bend backwards via guilt.

His culprit, Jenny Nash, was one screwy, piggy, broad. Talk about nobel prize winning literature - She must've had the most consecutive uses for the metaphorical 'like'. I even remember reading a passage that simply stated, 'Like like like'.

So the story went, Jenny fell asleep. I snuck in, stole that candy apple camouflaged contraption and headed straight for a paper shredder. One look inside. Not a pint of guilt.

// -- End Journal Note #440321. Special Agent Thomas. - - >