saga/title/fandom:The Private and Personal Journal of Paris Page Ogilvie
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.
Swiped five wallets, two storage keys, three ID's and a transport ship travel ticket. All in all a good days work.
Station police onto me. Must have received stolen ID list from last port. Have decided to use ship ticket stolen yesterday as flight leaves in an hour. Guy also had storage key but have no idea what's on board. Have good feeling may have struck gold with this one. What kind of a name is 'Paris' anyway?
Found out there's a policeman on board! Attempt to leave ship unsuccessful. Cryo-tubes near nye impossible to open once activated.
Day 100 and something
Ship crashed. Not feeling so good about whole thing now although am still alive. Worried about policeman. Must be convincing as this 'Paris' person. Apparently he's an antiques dealer. Shouldn't be too difficult. Just selling second hand stuff really, which is what I already do. Well... it is second hand when I get hold of it.
Score! Paris' - sorry - my storage crates have survived crash. Found huge stash of booze and tried not to look surprised.
Disguise of glasses and headgear seems to be working! Johns took five bottles of wine and when I charged him twenty-five UD each for them, he didn't look twice at me. He didn't pay me anything either, but still.
Been told there's lunatic chained up in remains of crashed ship with two heads, six inch claws and covered in fur. Am slightly concerned this will mean double the alcohol intake for him. Go ask Fry for confirmation but she looks at me like I'm the lunatic. Catch sight of boy called Jack watching nearby, snickering.
Lunatic escaped. Turns out he's only a serial killer after all with just the one head.
Moment of triumph at discovery of another of Paris', er, my crates quashed by realisation haven't got a clue what any of the stuff is. Others keep picking up bits of misshapen wood and asking me what they are. Thought Johns was beginning to suspect something so panicked and made it up. Think may have got away with it.
Half the camp have gone off looking for Riddick and/or water. Decided to stay behind as far away from policeman as possible.
Score! Another crate yields up stash of baccie and cigars or whatever you call those small fancy things. Cigarells? Cignells? Also found umbrella which have erected to create shade from suns. Drinks all round!
Jack says umbrella is really Eighteenth century French parasol. Thankfully no one around to witness slip up so just pat Jack on head and laugh it off. Am rewarded with poisonous look. Jack possible threat to disguise.
Decided would be safer to go with loose tobacco found rather than cignets. Sit myself down in shade for well deserved drink and nice roll up ciggie.
Still Day 100 summink kinda
Pretty suns. Make landscape all sparkly looking.
Shiny. Really shiny. Fluffy shiny things.
Swirly sand, all swirling round. Swirl, swirl.
Man this stuff is good.
Have feeling being watched. Everyone is on to me! In fact, whole ship crash deliberate just to catch me off guard! I see troop of officers waiting on horizon. Everyone expecting me to give myself up! NEVER! Not without a fight! Shall go confront traitorous bastards.
HA! Sniper MISSED! Shoved Jack forward as shield but passerby caught bullet instead. Chalk one up to me!
Feeling tired. May try to have kip.
My head hurts.
Being dragged to some hole where Zeke is supposed to be hiding. Have absolutely no idea what's going on. Suggestion that if Zeke prefers it down hole, just leave him there, met with strange looks.
Zeke's dead? When? How? Have vague recollection of a sniper. Maybe that's what got him.
Am worried about being in such close proximity to Johns again. Thankfully, he seems to be obsessed with Riddick. Tempted to tell them to get a room but manage to hold my tongue. Bit worried about way Imam keeps staring at me. Possible undercover detective?
Caught Arab boys trying to steal all the water. Beat them on head with stick till they ran away then filled up empty booze bottles. Prevented from taking stash by arrival of others who are under mistaken impression was collecting it for them.
Now very concerned about way Imam keeps staring at me. Am I really that pretty?
Try to find mirror to check but only one been swiped by Jack for hairdressing activities. Have asked him for trim.
home prior chapter next chapter fiction gateway