it's floey's private diary!

 






      part 1

      part 2

      part 3

      part 4

floey's private diary - part 4



Monday, June 30 2:45 p.m.
Dear Me,
        What is wrong with Frank Sinatra? I just caught him leaping from the top of the refrigerator into Richard’s arms like they’re best buddies. I watched him do it three times! It’s an absolute betrayal!! And Richard, that little turd, just grins like he has a new pal. He keeps running into my room and gloating. I think he’s trying to make me jealous since I told him the ferret never liked anyone but me—which was absolutely the truth--until now. Frank Sinatra may be an otherwise astute animal, but if he’s going to start hanging out with Richard he definitely lacks good judgment in his choice of friends.

Monday, June 30 3:15 p.m.
        Oh God! Richard just ran into my room, farted, and ran out again! The boy belongs in a cage!

Monday, June 30 3:20 p.m.
        A haiku just came to me:

        unpleasant cousin
        take him to the zoo and feed
        him to the bison

Tuesday, July 1 11:00 a.m.
To the Older, Wiser Me,
        Got another honeymoon postcard from Lillian, which didn’t exactly improve my mood. The picture was of a row of muscle guys standing together on a beach. It was a wall of huge triangular tanned backs and little muscular butts in tiny, brightly colored swimsuits. Lillian only wrote a short message: "Dear Floey: See anything you'd like to put your hand on?" At the bottom she wrote: "My best to Calvin! (Oh, and Wen, too!)"
        Ha ha.

Wednesday, July 2 1:30 p.m.
        Gary just asked Ma out again. This time he phoned to ask if she’d go with him to Waterfire in Providence tomorrow night. She turned him down, of course. After all, she already promised Mrs. Horowitz she’d make calls for the Narragansett Bay clean up fund drive. So now instead of going into Providence tomorrow, Gary says he'll join her at the phone bank. It’s kind of sad how hard he’s trying. Poor thing. Ma always says she's never seriously considered dating anybody in the entire eleven years since dad died, but even if she would I couldn't imagine her with Gary. He’s a nice guy and everything, but he just doesn’t seem like her type--too newspaper-and-slippers, too bald, too predictable.
        Plus, it'd just be too weird.
        Still, sometimes my heart breaks for him. There are moments when I want to sit him down, kiss his shiny forehead and set him straight about his chances.

        gary, sweet gary
        when will you wake up and see
        ma’s out of your league?

Wednesday, July 2 4:00 p.m.
Dear Floey of Tomorrow,
        Richard's hunched over our computer again. Seems to me the little monster spends most of his waking hours practically strapped to the thing. For the life of me I cannot imagine what he's working on that he could find so riveting.

        <--previous