saga/title/fandom:The Private and Personal Journal of John Ezekiel


rating/genre:(PG-13) - Gen/Het

warnings: Dubious Content, Adult Humor

summary: The title says it all.

comments/disclaimers: Pitch Black et al are not mine. The idea comes from repetitive readings of the genius that are The Very Secret Diaries by Cassandra Claire, based on Lord of the Rings. I do not apologise for my sorry attempts at humour, but feel free to lynch at will.

Day One

Hooked up with rich woman. Daddy is a multi-trillionaire tycoon or something. Main thing is I won't have to be digging these bloody holes much longer.

Day Thirty-Five

Aren't whirlwind romances and weddings great? Now got my hands on a hot new wife. Can't wait to get my hands on her cold hard cash.

Day 101

There's a saying that goes something like 'love doesn't consist in gazing at each other eyes but in looking together in the same direction'. Have feeling we're not only looking in opposite directions but possibly in opposite galaxies.

Day 120

Shazza told me we're taking a trip. Very excited at finally being whisked off into life of luxury star cruising.

Day 128

Hunter-Gratzner does not look like a high class ship. It's carrying a criminal around for one thing. Shall have to discuss with Shazza possible difficulties and misunderstandings in our relationship, i.e. me wanting loads of money and her apparently not.

Day 278

Have landed, for want of a better word, on some god-forsaken hellhole of a planet. All becomes a bit too much for me. I've tried so hard to escape places like this and now I've ended up back where I started. Downing bottle of 60% proof booze all that stops me from having full scale breakdown.

Been chatting to nice guy called Paris about how you get into antiques trade. Was told it's just a matter of picking up a few things here and there. Am tempted to give it a go, it seems like a good deal. He's obviously loaded, if the booze and cigars anything to go by.

Still bloody day 278

Been bitch-slapped into burying corpses by Shazza. Furious row erupted as I wanted to sit and have a smoke and a drink with Paris but she had other ideas. Argument ended with her telling me I wasn't the man she thought she'd married. Touché.

Hunched over hole in ground, weeping, a sudden thought occurs to me. If she sorta, kinda dies, then as her spouse I'd be entitled to her inheritance!

March off with new found hope in my heart and gun in my hand.

Had Shazza perfectly in my line of sight but when pulled trigger some big arsed lummox appears out of nowhere. Have now resumed stance by hole, weeping.

Catch sight of something in the hole. Innate prospector within whispers of minerals or gold. Can't stop myself from taking closer look.

Nope. Not minerals, gold or any other kind of precious metal. Well, they don't tend to have teeth.

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