The Writer Stubbornly Protects Her Manuscript
He’s been absolutely silent…it’s a bit intimidating, to tell the truth. I told him about how he was sprawled (most comically, too, though I left that out), in the desert, and how the vultures were about ready to turn him into human McNuggets.
There was no reaction, except for the occasional movement of his crystalline eyes. Now I feel completely at home, that’s for sure.
He’s staring at me right now, and I’m trying to keep my gaze on my writing. I wonder if he’s wondering about what I’m writing inside this journal, if that makes any sense.
Well, he’s not finding out any time soon. This ragged old book will be guarded even more heavily than the gold ingots at Fort Knox.
I have an angry Scooter, and I’m not afraid to deploy him.
Scooter’s fairly unsettled; you can imagine why. He seldom has visitors (more less strangers!), and most of the time it’s Emma, who’s too scared to approach him within a five foot radius.
All in all, it’s very awkward having company for the first time in years.