by Rob Reger
On the brighter side, Mom is forcing EvilMe to be my personal slave since I am totally immobile. I do not think EvilMe knows we switched journals. Aside from practical exchanges like “Here’s your sandwich” and “Bring me the bedpan,” we have not really been speaking. I mean, we haven’t been planning any more jolly episodes of cooperative prankery, that’s for sure. If/when we do have a real conversation again, I’m not sure what I will say to her. What is there to say? Thanks for finding me in the canyon, and for not sucking the poison out? Thanks for knocking me off the trail and breaking my leg? Oh, and thanks for appearing out of NOWHERE, turning my cats against me, causing mental anguish for Mom, and basically ruining what was supposed to be a fun, exploration-and-experiment-filled summer of SOLITUDE! What am I going to accomplish with a big old broken leg? A crossword puzzle? Maybe I’ll crochet a potholder? GAHHH!!!!
Pain is making me crabby again. Need more medication. Will ring my personal slave.
Personal slave not responding to her summons. Go figure. Will make Mom punish her. What am I saying? Will need to punish her myself, clearly. Must quit complaining and take action. Will need to build some kind of elevator so I can get upstairs to my bedroom, and rig up an elaborate pulley system in the room so I can work on experiments and monitor cat activity from my bed.
Later
Have crocheted potholder. Used yarn I braided from my own hair. Had been saving up hair for years and had a large box of it that really needed to be put to good use. Mom thanked me for the potholder and tried to seem enthusiastic, but I could tell she was imagining the smell of burning hair, and wondering where she could hide the hideous thing. Will have to think of non-kitchen-related uses for the rest of the hair.
Later
Just realized that EvilMe signed my cast while I was asleep. Am very annoyed that she signed it “Emily.” Am also somewhat terrified that she was able to do so without waking me up. Nothing I can do about it.
Gave Mom a batch of questions for our Jeopardy showdown. Here are some prime ones:
I used this disease as a clever excuse to get out of attending the first through third grades.
I successfully faked this supernatural skill for an audience of skeptics when I was 9.
My patent on this creative use of ordinary dirt has pretty much paid the rent for the past 3 years.
I found the abandoned kitten we now know as Miles under a Dumpster in this humorously named small town.
This officer of the law was the first (and last) to succeed in handcuffing me—if only for a moment.
A sugar-cube diorama of this famous natural disaster landed me in psychiatric evaluation for a year.
I used a spirited game of Calamity Poker and an artificial sandstorm to cleverly distract this would-be Romeo from going on a date with Raven.
Over the years, a shrine I constructed to this Surrealist painter has caused the faintings of 3 housekeepers, 7 neighbors, and 1 social worker.
Mystery joined our household when Patti rescued her from this potentially deadly scenario.
I used my Magic 8 Ball to successfully advise this leader of state through a minor national crisis.
Before I rescued him from a recently deceased cat lady’s pestilential home, Sabbath was named after this iconic science-fiction villain.
NeeChee’s striped tail is the result of an unfortunate run-in with these 4 common household chemicals.
The month I spent at a summer camp run by this celebrity was cut short by an unfortunate incident involving a feather boa, a video camera, and 20 gallons of rubber cement.
Mom has compiled my questions with EvilMe’s and eliminated the duplicates. Huh. Yeah. Eliminated the duplicates. Wish I could do more of that, myself.
Later
Just woke up and the box of hair is gone. No more hair projects for today. It’s OK. Am very sleepy.
Later
Have just had a horrifying nightmare in which EvilMe EvilOne used my hair to bring down evil voodoo on me, causing my leg to come out of the cast with the foot pointing backward. Should have had better security for that box of hair!
Ugh. Am clearly not making smart decisions. Am not enjoying horrifying nightmares like I normally would. Am not spontaneously coming up with delightful revenge ideas. Am not able to write dozens of fiendishly difficult Jeopardy questions that will win me the game. Way too many of my fiendishly difficult questions have been duplicates of questions EvilOne has already written.
Later
EvilOne has just been in to see me. Our conversation went a little something like this:
EVILONE: Yeah, so, what’s the point of this Jeopardy game, anyway?
ME: Uhhhhh…idle entertainment…?
EO: Yeah, right. You’re trying to prove that you know more about being Emily Strange than I do. You think I’m a just a copy of you, right? A FakeYou?
ME: Oh. Well. Huh. Ummmm…
EO: [Sighing. Rolling eyes. Thumping me casually on the cast.] Whatever. As long as you understand that you’re going to lose, and I’m going to punish you for losing.
ME: [Pretending the thumping does not hurt like a flutterplacking pigbark.] What if I win?
EO: Then I’ll punish you for winning. But you won’t win, cuz you’re a silly little FakeMe.
GULP! Am now wondering what I think she meant by “punish.” Not to mention her entry of June 15, and what she meant by “preemptively destroy”—I mean, would she actually kill me? Could I actually kill her? Am hoping it does not come to that, but am flat out of ideas on how to resolve my doppelgänger dilemma.
Have wished her away many times, but she keeps showing up again.
Very frustrating.
Later
Am trying to stay positive by focusing on how much better life will be when I’m off the couch. Among other things, I really would like to get out of the house to do some spying on Venus Fang Fang. It astonishes me that she would be able to shut down our Manifesto. I mean, there can’t be more than a dozen people in the world who know what a Vanian-Jugg circuit is, let alone how to disable it. Am very impressed! Not to mention afeard. Fingers crossed she can’t trace it back to us!!!!!
June 19
tar units used, 3; past successes revisited, 133; Jeopardy questions written, 47; Jeopardy questions approved by Mom, 7
Life has improved slightly. Am back to using self-hypnosis for leg pain. Was about to flush medication down the toilet when I reflected that I may be able to secretly dose EvilOne’s food with it at some point in the future. That cheered me quite a bit. Am up and around on crutches now despite the crunching pain. Totally against doctor’s orders. Have painted my cast with liquid black rock to hide signatures. Should probably have used regular black paint but was hit by small flash of inspiration/blind hope that the black rock might also help with the pain. Not really sure it is working, but at least I’m mobile.
Also, my cast looks a lot cooler.
Later
Am in a MUCH better mood than yesterday! Am now reviewing old family photo albums and scrapbooks to gear up for the big Jeopardy challenge, which is scheduled for two days from now. Our family photo albums and scrapbooks are AMAZING! I feel sorry for people who do not have photos of themselves training cats to stand on one another in pyramid formation, or synthesizing amino acids in home laboratory, or completing giant homemade paint-by-numbers replicas of Bosch paintings, or reanimating lifeless human flesh and miscellaneous bird organs into a working golem. (See some favorites on next page.)
Speaking of golems…Hmm.
Five minutes later
OK. Have just reread entries of June 7 to June 9. WHY, WHY, WHY didn’t I realize back then that EvilOne was not sleepwalking at all, but actually trying to kill me? And that Raven was in fact rescuing me, not threatening my life? And that EvilOne OBVIOUSLY got rid of Raven to make destroying me easier?
I can’t believe she actually had me believing that I was commanding Raven to kill, or that I had subconscious hostility toward Mom or Mystery. I m
ean, MOM and MYSTERY! My two favorite living beings in the world!
Must get Raven back, and fast!!!!
Thirty seconds later
Oh no. What if Raven was at the ribbon-cutting ceremony and has been turned into a gibbering loony? I mean…more of a gibbering loony.
Am waking Mom up right now.
Later
Just had a little straight talk with Mom. This is what I found out:
First off, we are blattering LUCKY that MOM didn’t go to the stupid ribbon-cutting ceremony!
She says it has been practically impossible to buy groceries, catch a bus, or get a TV repairman out to the house.
Looting and vandalism are way up, and the police are too busy rounding up loonies to do much about it.
Mom has already taken it upon herself to check up on Raven. Let us be mightily thankful that on the evening of the ribbon-cutting ceremony, Raven was safe at home with Bebe, who was feeling poorly.
Gigi, however, is another story. Mom located her in a dark corner of the psych ward, where she was finger-painting with…well, something no one should finger-paint with, and singing mellow love songs from the 1970s. Mom says the image will be burned into her mind for all eternity.
Mom hates to think what might have happened if Raven had attended the ribbon-cutting ceremony: My superstrong golem would probably be running amok, battling loonies and police alike. (At least, Mom SAYS she hates to think of it, but clearly she ENJOYS thinking about it.)
Mom doesn’t have any evidence, or at least no evidence that would stand up in court…but for all intents and purposes, she knows we did this.
The incident has made the national news, and a major investigation is under way, so she is assuming and hoping that we covered our tracks.
She is assuming and hoping that we did not actually intend to psychically damage most of the townspeople.
She is assuming and hoping that we are already hard at work on a solution that will reverse the aforementioned psychic damage. (I did not have the heart to contradict her. No need to crush her spirit just yet.)
She also has her hopes that we are working on a solution to this whole duplication thing.
She admits that coming up with a solution to the whole duplication thing might be kinda taxing to the imagination, especially if one were suffering with pain and medication.
She is tired, very tired, of all the trouble we’ve had in our 19 days in Silifordville, but would like to think that we can get through it and last out the year, at least.
I let Mom go back to bed and am lying here on the couch making some plans. As soon as morning comes, I will call Bebe and see if I can persuade her to return Raven.
Later—broad daylight
Phoned Bebe and asked her to return Raven to me as soon as possible, but the conversation did not go well.
ME: Bebe, I’m telling you, it’s a matter of life and death!
BEBE: Well, same here. Gigi’s gone gaga and so has our maid, and who’s going to do all this dusting?
ME: You need a state-of-the-art golem to do your DUSTING?
B: Golem?
ME: Gahhhh! I need Raven to come be my BODYGUARD!
B: I don’t think that will work very well. She’s not even doing the dusting.
ME: GAHHH—Wait, she’s not doing what you tell her to do?
B: No, she just sits there with her mouth open, and it’s really creepy.
ME: Did you try saying “Emily” before you told her to do the dusting?
B: Yes, I tried “Emily,” “jockstrap,” “poopcake,” “barfbag,” “Titicaca,” “codpiece,” “Mulva,” “Dolores,” “dissemination,” and “kumquat,” but she just sits there.
ME: [Not laughing. Not laughing at all.] This is serious. I’ll be there in ten minutes.
Later
Bad stuff! Really bad stuff!
Got to Bebe’s house (which DOES need a good dusting—if by “dusting” you mean “adding several centuries’ worth of dust”) to find Raven sitting around with her mouth open, as described. She is not looking good at all. I guess I really should have paid more attention to the pedicure scene I witnessed on her first night here, and made some extrapolations from that. Anyhow, the results are terrifying. They have bought her a new wig, which, admittedly, is a lot less ratty than her old wig, which had been partially burned and then torn apart for use in vehicle repairs, but at least had CHARACTER and HISTORY. Her clothing is also new and, unlike her old clothing, is totally lacking in rips, stains, safety pins, staples, handmade patches, handsewn instructions for returning Raven to her home, and drawings of vampire-cat-zombie-ninja-monkey-mutants. Someone has obviously spent some time choosing tasteful accessories to coordinate with her outfit, including a silk scarf to hide the Frankenstein-monster stitches I spent all that time tattooing on her neck, which I thought were not only hilarious and tuff-looking, but a nice literary reference. She’s wearing quite a bit of expertly applied makeup. And she’s apparently been to a tanning salon. Ugh!!! To sum it up, Raven is looking a lot less like a well-used, well-loved, grungy old golem, and a lot more like a well-heeled, well-groomed, attractive NORMAL WOMAN.
I didn’t really know where to start, so I tried a little small talk.
ME: Man, Raven, I haven’t seen you in so long. I mean, how long has it been…[counting days]
RAVEN: Thirteen hours.
ME:…You saw me thirteen hours ago?
R: Uh-huh.
ME: Right. And what did “we” do?
R: Looted stores. Mostly.
ME: [Gasping to myself at the EVIL of the OtherMe!!!!]. Raven, could you please stand on one foot and bark like a dog?
R:…
ME: EMILY. Stand on one leg!
R:…
ME: [Screaming. Making Bebe whimper in fear.] EMILY, I say! EMILY! Bark like a dog!
R:…
ME: WHAT HAS SHE DONE TO YOU??????????????
Later
Have spent the past four hours in Bebe’s living room, taking Raven apart and putting her back together.
After much investigation, I finally found a line of code buried in her programming that I didn’t recognize. It prevents her from obeying commands from anyone but “13-34-567/45-32-741/9-55-4/88-123-42/97-16-197.” It’s a simple code for “Emily.” —Well, it’s simple if you know the code, and which edition of Occult Thermodynamics and You to use to crack it.
What I haven’t been able to figure out is why this code allows EvilOne’s commands to work and not mine.
I mean…Aren’t I Emily too?
Worrisome!!!!!!!
Anyway, for now, I fixed it by changing “Emily” to “Emily and Emily.” For some reason, this works. Very…strange.
Later—back at home
I got Bebe to drive me and Raven home. Have explained to Mom that Raven needed to be back for just a little while for reprogramming. Mom seemed fine with that.
I can only hope that EvilOne does not look into Raven’s coding, or she will know I have control of Raven again.
OK. Raven has been stationed in the armchair next to the couch. Am feeling slightly safer. Going to sleep.
June 20
booby traps remodeled, 0; cat attention units, ½; Jeopardy questions written, 23; Jeopardy questions accepted by Mom, 2; legs feeling semihealed, 1
My leg is feeling MUCH better. Have taken no medication today. Mind is also improving. I give all credit to the liquid black rock.
Have kept Raven constantly by my side, but even so, I’ve been feeling the strong need for self-preservation. Have visited my various hidey-holes around the house, only to find that ALL of them have brand-new booby traps!!!! Oh, the unspeakable evil! Attempted to neutralize and revise them in very subtle ways so that the changes were impossible to detect, BUT, I cannot say I’ve been successful. In fact, I was mostly only successful in flinging myself to the floor just in time to avoid sprays of icy water, catapults of gravel, etc. Hopefully my failure is just a result of lingering leg pain. Cannot blame th
e medication anymore. Cannot believe the EvilOne has been so busy. I suppose this is the beginning of her plan to destroy me.
Later
I waited until EvilOne left the house, then lurched upstairs to the bedroom, only to be scared out of my wits and semideafened by a barrage of extremely loud firecrackers. Jarbing frambax! I LIKED those eardrums.
Later
Have not been able to come up with reciprocal booby trap on bedroom door. Am becoming soft. Have settled for whipping up a fast-acting, odorless bleaching agent and adding it to shampoo. Am looking forward to hearing EvilOne’s shriek when she sees herself in the mirror after her next shower. Am extremely cheered. It’s amazing what a little proactive revenge work can do for a girl’s self-esteem. Should write a self-help book on the Power of Positive Revenge. My 13-point PPR course would train people to quit whining like a pack of babies and start taking control of their lives (and the lives of their enemies) through creative prankery and fun, diabolical psychological torture. I WOULD write it, too, if I cared the least little bit about people’s self-esteem, or if I didn’t think I would immediately have the cheeks sued off me by spoilsports.
June 21
satisfying pranks inflicted, 1; self-esteem points regained, 13
Woke up at nightfall, tied to the couch. Raven was nowhere around. Had to work long and hard to get untied. Uncool!! But not unexpected. I’d stashed some miscellaneous tools in my pockets before going to sleep, just in case. If EvilOne hadn’t tied my arms down so tightly, I’d have been free in way less time. Anyway, it could have been worse. At least it gave me an excuse not to take the first shower. Midway through my knot-work, I heard the much-anticipated screams from EvilOne when she saw her hair. It gave me the courage I needed to go on.
