‘If he weren’t so poor he wouldn’t have smelly little children sitting on his lap all day. One of them puked on me the other day. It is definite...y not what I was trained for.’ ‘And what were you trained for?’ she wanted to know. ‘Shakespeare,’ I replied. ‘An actor?’ she asked. ‘Four years at the National Institute of Dramatic Arts. Mel Gibson went there, you know,’ I explained. ‘I bet he was never a shopping centre Santa,’ she teased me. ‘All right,’ I replied. ‘Don’t rub it in.’ ‘I take it. My intention was to leave them be when I spied something grasped in my stepmother's fist. I ran to my space in the kitchen and pulled my diary from under the bedding.I took the time to read every word from the previous post, though I knew it well enough that I felt I could recite it by rote.The very fact that the words were written in my journal did not make them so. In sooth, I could very well have awakened from an intense dream and recorded the events in my diary. This is what I would have. More

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