Toronto, Canada, January 19th 1935
Dear Journal,
I've been staying with Miss Squirrel and the Red Panda for a couple of days now. I don't think the Red Panda believes that I did take out two armed goons with a can of beans. That's okay though, because then he doesn't ask questions about how I did it.
Living in the 1930's isn't so bad, the food's better than the cafeteria food...which really isn't saying much. But at least it doesn't get away under its own power. Speaking of, they haven't asked what the putty egg is yet.
The clothes here are weird. Miss Squirrel brought me a couple of sets of clothes, since the one I was wearing was starting to smell a little ripe. I don't think they've invented elastic waistbands yet, so I've got to button everything up. Oh. And suspenders will give you a wedgie when you sit down if they're on too tight.
Mr. Red Panda is also letting me practice my lightsaber katas, I didn't bring it along with me, but I think he gets the gist of it being a sword made out of light. I don't have much for classes, or homework here, so I've got a lot of time to practice.
That's all for now, I can hear Miss Squirrel and the Red Panda coming in, so I'd better get back to bed before they come in here...
With that, the little boy tucked up his notebook, turned off the reading lamp and quietly scampered back to the storage cave that was his room for now. For a few minutes he listened to the echo-distorted sounds of the masked do-gooders discussing something that sounded important. Then, tucking the notebook under the sleeping bag on his cot, he crawled into bed and settled down for the night.
Maybe tomorrow Dr. C would figure out how to send him home.
One could always hope.
I've been staying with Miss Squirrel and the Red Panda for a couple of days now. I don't think the Red Panda believes that I did take out two armed goons with a can of beans. That's okay though, because then he doesn't ask questions about how I did it.
Living in the 1930's isn't so bad, the food's better than the cafeteria food...which really isn't saying much. But at least it doesn't get away under its own power. Speaking of, they haven't asked what the putty egg is yet.
The clothes here are weird. Miss Squirrel brought me a couple of sets of clothes, since the one I was wearing was starting to smell a little ripe. I don't think they've invented elastic waistbands yet, so I've got to button everything up. Oh. And suspenders will give you a wedgie when you sit down if they're on too tight.
Mr. Red Panda is also letting me practice my lightsaber katas, I didn't bring it along with me, but I think he gets the gist of it being a sword made out of light. I don't have much for classes, or homework here, so I've got a lot of time to practice.
That's all for now, I can hear Miss Squirrel and the Red Panda coming in, so I'd better get back to bed before they come in here...
With that, the little boy tucked up his notebook, turned off the reading lamp and quietly scampered back to the storage cave that was his room for now. For a few minutes he listened to the echo-distorted sounds of the masked do-gooders discussing something that sounded important. Then, tucking the notebook under the sleeping bag on his cot, he crawled into bed and settled down for the night.
Maybe tomorrow Dr. C would figure out how to send him home.
One could always hope.