Dear Diary,

I got the sleeping thing under control. I think I tried too hard the first time. I don’t… think I was there, at first. But now, when I try again calmer, I’m still here just not all the way, so we can play hide and seek, and we hide from everyone else. Once we got it under control it was a lot easier to get things, y’know like food and stuff from stores or picking up money from the sidewalks. We can get more snickers, and did I tell you everything’s sweeter than in New Jersey? All the candy. I don’t need to eat so much anymore because I get all full faster from the British people food. I guess I’m British people too? I don’t talk any different I don’t think.

I’ve been watching people. I can only disappear for a minute, we timed it, but that makes it easier to get into more b places that’re easier to hide in. Like in the tops of trees or behind things or in bushes. I had a couple dogs bark at me, but their people pulled them away cause they couldn’t see me. I’ve never really watched people when they couldn’t see me. I used to do it sometimes on the bus or just w walking home.  But now they don’t know there’s a kid here and they say more, they don’t look over at me, right? I got some sunglasses to cover my eyes when I hide at night, cause I realized they kinda glow a little, which made me feel weird at first but then pretty cool, like a superhero, but not all my friends are superheroes, and I don’t think I really am either cause nobody knows who I am. I think if I was a superhero I’d be Danny Phantom. (-There’s a drawing of a smiley face and herself with a ghost tail in the right margin-) Except there’s two of us and one of us is the phantom and one of us is like human Danny.

Anyway, people are kinda interesting. I counted how many people almost sat on the bird poop on the bench but went through like the exact same motions of “oh, there’s bird poop” and sat to the left of it. Or the right. Their right, our left. And some people just sat on it but only one person ever got told they had bird poop on their pants. I should stop talking about bird poop pants. I watch the birds too. I can tell the difference between ravens and crows really easy now. (-There’s a drawing of a raven and a crow with dots at the bottom in the left margin.-)

I am a way more a fan of "A Galaxy Far, Far, Away" than "Boldy Go Where None Have Gone Before."

Yeah, I also read a lot of comic books at Loyd's Comics...heh, Old Man Loyd: "Yinz kids git the Hell out unless yinz buyin' somethin'!!"

What a riot.

My point is, I'd rather a lot of this stuff stay Far, FAR away rather than up in my business. I mean, I can be bold. Bold as Fuck, even. But this whole "Mirror Dimension" shit? "Chrisis of Infinite Earths" insanity? Let Superman or the God damn Avengers handle that horseshit: No Supes, you say? Then maybe...just maybe...

LEAVE IT THE FUCK ALONE THEN!

That's what Uncle Edgar says, anyway. Why even bother? What the fuck does it matter that this piece of shit here is more important than that piece of shit over there??

For realz, who cares? Are you seriously saying you can frog hop across the God Damned multiverse but you need to bring the Murder Circus into town to get (& here's the Punchline, kids)

A FUCKING WORTHLESS DOOHICKEY DOWN THE FUCKING STREET?!?

Bullshit! I could have been killed!

Meep!

Shit, I'm STILL mad about it...who do they think they are? Contractors DO need a Union apparently...but not costume wearing scabs like those assholes. I'd start one even...don't laugh! If it wasn't just the thought of my ugly mug on posters, I would totally, like, bust this shit open with Organized Labor. I mean, if Ol' Pete can run the Sanitation Union in the 'Burgh, I could do it right? I'm likable, right? Sensible?

I only lose my shit, like...some of the time. Better than most of these clowns I work with.

But yeah...paralell fucking worlds out there, & no fucking Union!

*gibber*

I was waiting this time. Time off in place, bag packed...just sitting in my chair, talons carving little curls of wood from the armrest as I wait.

He showed up, to. Just like they always seem to. Poof, there he was: A goddamn refugee from an Anime Convention. Top Hat Fox Furrie, as real as I'm standing here.

After the usual pleasantries, I agreed to go along. Sure, why not?

Boy was I wrong.

The Place: Some hellhole version of Vegas (not so much a stretch, but less people.

The Job: Go to a Pawnshop like, just down the street, & fetch me a Shiny.

The Kicker: Oh, Contractors like you are pretty much a dime a dozen here, & they're at war or something.

So, here we are - We? Oh yeah. My running commentary -

-Grace "How am I not dead yet" Ghost Girl

-Sir Inkz-alot, never met him, but seen his work at Sturgis

-Dead as a Doornail Purple Biker Guy

-Twigs from earlier

-Some other two gun cowboy guy

Ok...this doesn't look good. But we get a car & drive down to the shop. No problem right? Granted, we should have took a peek first, but it's the middle of Las Vegas. What could go wrong?

A lot, it seems.

We get jumped by Costumed Super Villains sprouting up like weeds. Like a dozen of them. Everywhere you look, with flashy costumes, crazy guns, weird powers...yeah, just for driving down the fucking street.

We manage to beg for our pitiful lives, & these ridiculous "Union" assholes decide to rough us up a bit, question us. Some of us do a great job lying, & they are not apparently put off by us being weird looking. Makes sense, these guys put the "Freak" in Freak show. They claim they are Contractors meeting with other Contractors...fuck: Is there anyone in this place that isn't a Contractor??? Next time I need a bid to remodel my kitchen I'm coming here.

Except I don't think I will. They say they're Contractors, & to be fair each & every one of them has more "Powers" than all of us combined; but they act like dumb security guards. Like, Mall Cop level of dumb. Even the hopeless Contractors I've met back home were at least savvy. These guys must be Fox Furrys special butt-buddies or something. Hands out powers like candy because they suck otherwise.

Anyway, we see the thing & Sir Inkz-alot & I make a play to get it. Works too. We have it, walking out, best of luck on your meeting, not a shot fired.

That, kids, is how REAL Contractors handle a situation.

Except then there equally overpowered Super Villain friends show up & insist we are some kinda problem...so Super Asshole puts us in a magic box & brings us back inside.

One thing Uncle Edgar doesn't like kids...being put in a fucking cage.

This is not fun & games anymore. When the "Predictable & Inevitable" betrayal goes down (these guys were stupid, like I told ya), we make a break. Crash out the back, end a Cos-Player at the back gate like a kitten in a burlap sack, out we go.

End of story: Fuck Mr Foxy. I'm of a mind to feed him his fancy tail. He'd best keep his paws away from my stoop & play with his amateur league from here on out.