"I have no idea what's going on. I don't think she knows she's a part of it. I think it's bigger than that. It's like this gypsy lady is after me, maybe she's trying to tell me about my problems." I on the other hand, had barely slept the night before, and looked it. "Why are you wearing Simon's hat? Whatever. It's time I get to the bottom of the masks and Gypsy's story -- not Jeana's. Dad can figure her out, I'm running out of time. Gypsy made it very clear I'd be miserable for the rest of my life if I didn't listen to the calling." I fluttered my hands in the air as I spoke, as if I could stir up the mysterious calling. "And in case you haven't noticed, I'm pretty stinking miserable."
"Trust me I've noticed, but dude, I'm calling you, the gypsy isn't paying us. We've got other stories to get to the bottom of."Of course Benny was right. We were on a paid deadline. "Alright but I can't put it aside much longer, so let's get this done. Did you eat breakfast?"
"Yes, I ate, I'm ready to get to work. Pull yourself together and I'll get started."After a huge bowl of Lucky Flakes topped with chocolate milk, I was a bit more functional. I considered copying Benny's wardrobe but I was still pretty mad at Simon. So I straightened my bed and reached under the mattress for an added dose of happiness. I figured the yellow mask was the only one I really felt good in and I needed to feel good.
During that first day of writing it was hard to find our groove. We kept looking at the digital photos we took of Mr. Monroe and V.W. to give us inspiration. It was not as easy as sticking up for my Dad and me. All of our jokes kept falling back to the things those two did that drove us nuts and we spent most of the morning laughing at their ridiculosity. I wondered why we were doing this. Benny kept going back to my new Art of Simon Masters' book to get ideas."Hey, Benny," I thought out loud. "What makes what we're trying to do any better than what the Spectator does? I mean these people are truly a bit screwed up. And why should we care what this equally screwed up town thinks about them? Maybe that's why we're struggling."
He thought for a minute then handed me my book. "Just think of Normal or Dead dude, everybody is screwed up somehow. What the Spectator does is wrong, not just 'cause loser Faldrane is part of it but because it's a bunch of lies. You of all people should know that. We just gotta look at it like they're lying about us, so we stick up for them; remember…" he emphasized 'remember' like I should be ashamed of myself. "Besides, we swore to show this town how to keep it real."As much as I wanted to be mad a Simon, I couldn't, Normal or Dead was dead on and normal, in too many ways. So, about an hour before Benny's mom came to get him, we sat down and started from scratch. We made a storyboard, just like when we worked on my routine and did the Updated Spectator; we cut out the stories and pictures the Celebrity Spectator had printed about Mr. Monroe and V.W., then we started with the basic facts. We hoped that once we had the facts down with our pictures it would be much easier to add funny jabs. But our first day of work was over in what seemed like the amount of time it took to lose at a new video game.
Our plan of attack worked and the next two days were much more productive. When Benny left Thursday evening we had a draft printed complete with photos. We could give it to Dad when he came for my birthday dinner the next night.
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