Scott Card
03-13-2007, 09:40 AM
The Dog's Diary
8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 pm - Milk bones! My favorite thing!
1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
5:00 pm - Dinner! My favorite thing!
7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!
The Cat's Diary
Day 983 of my captivity.
My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They
dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash
or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the
rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to
keep up my strength.
The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt
to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet. Today I decapitated
a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped
this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates
my capabilities. However, they merely made condescending comments about
what a "good little hunter" I am. Bastards!
There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was
placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However,
I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement
was due to the power of "allergies." I must learn what
this means, and how to use it to my advantage.
Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my
tormentors
by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again
tomorrow, but at the top of the stairs.
I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches.
The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released,
and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded.
The bird must be an informant. I observe him communicate with
the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move.
My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated
cell, so he is safe. For now...
8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 pm - Milk bones! My favorite thing!
1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
5:00 pm - Dinner! My favorite thing!
7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!
The Cat's Diary
Day 983 of my captivity.
My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They
dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash
or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the
rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to
keep up my strength.
The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt
to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet. Today I decapitated
a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped
this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates
my capabilities. However, they merely made condescending comments about
what a "good little hunter" I am. Bastards!
There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was
placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However,
I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement
was due to the power of "allergies." I must learn what
this means, and how to use it to my advantage.
Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my
tormentors
by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again
tomorrow, but at the top of the stairs.
I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches.
The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released,
and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded.
The bird must be an informant. I observe him communicate with
the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move.
My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated
cell, so he is safe. For now...