I can't say I was surprised. In fact, I seem

while everyone looks around dumbfounded. For instance, there's the mystery of the red rabbit foot that the feds said contained an unearthly substance destined for quarantine. Clues

further indicated that said rabbit was not naturally red-furred and that sometimes a 6 turned out to be a 9. Furthermore, if you squinted, then the 7 could be a 1, and THAT would

mean absolutely nothing to anyone anywhere which is what I'm all about because

I called my mom dada an my dada mom.

They called me retarded when they thought I couldn't hear them. It made me so sad, sometimes even licking windows didn't help me cope with the fact that my parents thought I was a

sort of reverse miracle, the only person with an actual negative I Q Score. The truth is they shamed me with their ignorance, but I didn't want them to know how stupid they were.

How could they believe that truth was subjective? I was so certain in my indignant beliefs, so set in my ways. Clearly the whole group of them was wrong, and I alone was in the

world of nincompoops. If only they saw things my way we could all get along. Yeah, verily the truth is written. My journal is my true guide and anyone who doesn't believe me will

be subject to my artistic license to kill. "Mommy didn't see the shark coming," I wrote. I dedicated an entry to each nincompoop. One day, my journal would fool anthropologists.