Just got news that Dracula had a birthday party. Heard it was great and that everyone showed up, even Frankenstein and his ex-wife. He always could throw a great bash. I wasn't invited though. Haven't heard from those guys for such a long time that I can't say that I was surprised. They always liked to hangout with out me it seemed. I just hope I get to see them one last time before, well, you know.
Chemo doesn't seem to be working like the doctors want. Looks like my fishy innards don't like radiation much. It is hard to believe that after being studied by all the scientists, the ichthyologists, limnologists, the military technicians, the adventurers, and the marine biologists, and now the doctors that no one knows a thing about me. People with medical degrees are about as knowledgeable and open minded as those stupid girls that always run away from me on the beach. Just feel so alone sometimes, like it would be better if I was gone and no one had to worry about old fish-face. Ugh, sorry, been pretty down lately.
Tried to cheer myself up with a little sexuality. This is the kind of girl I'd like to drag to the bottom of the Amazon River (if you know what I mean), but I can't get excited anymore. Not a damn thing. Sigh. Off to bed. Alone. As always.
Before I ever did movies, I was trying to get into the theater. Here I am, fresh out of school performing Hamlet. I had the lead and everything. Some reviews said that I was one of the best actors out there, but the audience never could really look pas the whole "monster" thing so I was pretty much typecast as the creature right from the start. I'm not upset or anything, and I had a pretty good run, but I just feel like I could have done so much more for people. Maybe it isn't too late. Maybe I can still make a difference. I'm going to go out and help someone.
Sorry for long time between posts. Just got released from jail. I guess the elderly and the police just aren't ready for the creature to help out with loading groceries at the store. I'm supposed to do 50 hours of community service by the end of the year, but since I'll probably be gone by then, I won't worry too much about that.
Greetings from Miami. I've always been a sucker for sunny tropical locations. Too bad I could never afford the rent. But, hey, Cleveland ain't so bad in the summer. Anyway, I'm in Miami for surgery. Not to get rid of the cancer, but to make myself look young again. Lip coloration, gill replacement, the whole 9 yards. I look like a boy again! Taa-daa the new (old) me. Cancer can't keep me down.
Welp, after a series of threats, I had to leave Miami a few days earlier than expected,so I didn't heal right and then another round of chemo pretty much caused all the alterations to fall right off. So, here I am, the same old (new) me. Sometimes you wake up and put underwear on just so the world can give you an atomic wedgie. I don't even see why I bother.
I've been getting weaker and weaker every day, and, well, between the blood and the doctors counting how many days I have left on their hands, I don't think I'll be around much longer. It's been fun, and I loved each and every one of your emails. If you want to share pictures of me that you've drawn or maybe a few nice words, please send them here. It's been a difficult trip. I wish I could keep you all updated, but I think it'll just be best if I crawl back out to the sea one last time. Goodbye.
Sir Mix-a-Lot's classic follow up to "Baby Got Back" has serious unintended consequences.
"Really, Holmes!" I dropped into my seat, shocked. "You are remarkably tall! What are you, six foot six? Six foot eight?"
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