For even more strict and confidential reasons, the title of this Journal shall have no text at all. I think you all just might die. Yes. But you'll enjoy it, I promise you. I PWOMISEEE.

How many cheeses does it take to fly? NONE. THAT'S RIGHT SUCKAS. HAAAA! I just fooled JOOO.

All Presidential Nominee Penguins (Or, PNP for short) aside, let's go back to the story.

Okay. We're almost there now (SHUT UP JEREMY I'M TRYING TO DRIVE). A few more miles. And we'll be there.

(JERRRRREEEMMMYYY. I'M GONNA *bloop* your *bloopin* HIPPOPOTAMUS *bloop* *bloop* *bleep* CHICKENS *bleep* *bloooooooooooooop* HANDSTANDS? WHAT ARE YOU- *bleep* *bloop bloop* *BLEEP* Oh dogs I understand completely. Yes, yes I'll tell them.) Oh by the way guys, Jeremy sends his regards. Wait a minute.. I don't know any Jeremys. What are you talking about? Oh you oh so sillay people.

You know what you REALLY wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley?

Moving on.

What happened in the last journal? Angry beavers? Paintbrushes? Pfft yeah right. That was all in your silly willy imagination. And in mine too....

The beavers; there were thousands of them. I counted. "HEY STEVE! SARAH! JERRY! ADRIAN! HEY JIM! OHHH RICHARD HOW PLEASANT TO SEE YOU" and I waded through them. "CASSANDRA! AY-YO!" "WUSSAP BILL??!?!?! TELL ME WHAT'S GOOD, BILL!" and then they were gone. I love them. Suddenly I walk into another huge room. There, a man is sitting on top of... THE DISHWASHER! I FOUND IT!! I FOUUUNNNDDD IIITTT!!

Meanwhile the man is eating something. With a butter knife, he's scooping out and eating straight from the jar of... PEANUT BUTTER! "Mmm... ohh yeah" he says, scooping more into his mouth. "Oohhh.... this is good peanut but- OH MA GA THIS IS GOOD PEANUT BUTTER..." "oh yeah... I love this peanut butter... oh this is OH THIS IS IT IS!" And then with his mouth full he looks up and sees me. And then I look closer at the label on the peanut butter jar. "Wait a minute... that's MY peanut butter" I say angrily. With his mouth full he goes, "No.. no it's not" but it sounded more like "MPHMHGMPHHHHHH" BECAUSE HE TALKED WITH HIS FREAKIN MOUTH FULL THAT DISGUSTING PIG. "Yes... IT IS MY PEANUT BUTTER." I say. "NO!" he screams and runs.

"COME BACK HERE WITH MY PEANUT BUTTER" I scream. "NINJA CHAIRS; ATTACK!" he yells. 30 chairs fall from the ceiling, dressed in black. But they just kinda clatter and fall down. "NINJA CHAIRS! ATTACK!" He screams. But chairs can't move. They're inanimate. Silly silly man, he should have gotten ninja cows. the chairs looked like a pile o' gaabaagee and that's when I said "lol FAIL." he then recieved a very PAINFUL -emphasis on painful- blow to the fourth bone in his knee. NUMBA FOUR. OOH IT HURTS. He then yelled out something about the weather today and fell on the ground laughing. I chuckled.

So then I pulled out my handy dandy spatula and cooked up some burgers. "Mmm burgers" I said while slappin another on the grill. He then got up and said "CHOO CHOO MOO MOO" and those words stuck to me like glue for the rest of my life.

3 x 3 = 4 in MY textbook.

The burgers sizzled then ran away. "OH NO BURGERS COME BACK" I said. BUT THEY WON'T LISSTEEENNN. I then went up to the dishwasher *that he was no longer sitting on. oh ya* and put it in me pocket.

"I HAVE SUCCEEDED IN ME QUEST FOR DE DISHWASHER" I yelled. OH HAPPY SLAPPY DAY. I then did a victory dance which was a twist of a giraffe eating lasagna and a man with no arms and legs trying to yoga. It was quite the challenging dance BUT I DID IT AND I DID IT WITH STYLE.

I left the room and grabbed a plane with my big BEEFY hand. I jumped in the plane but I tripped and fell on my face. The pilot started crying so I read him a book. The book was called "How to conquer the universe and still have bologna as the overlord." It was filled with stories of a dog named skip who enjoyed eating frisbees. HE LOVED IT. But then I fired him. He was just NO GOOD in his job as pilot. So I took his place.

I then grabbed a microphone and yelled into it, "ALRIGHT KIDS IM GONNA FLY US TO DU MOON" the kids cheered me on. Bless those children. I grabbed that sticky thing that controls the plane. Haha sticks. So then I pushed the woozy woozy button *yeah they have that now* and we TOOK OFF.

Great flying I did. Great flying. But then I realized and thought too myself "HEY I PAYED TO RIDE THIS PLANE NOT FLY IT" and I jumped off. THEN I had AMAZING LUCK and fell into the starbucks where I needed to deliver the dishwasher. Oh you might want to look back to see why the fling dangles I had to get the dishwasher.

My quest was finally getting somewhere. Which is a good thing.

- Haman J. Palamanikikila just happens to be the main character of this amazing story and would like you to wash your hands with a fork and then use that fork to end world peace and start a war among the oceans.

Journal 10

For security and confidential purposes only, this journal shall remain nameless, and will only be referred to as "Journal 10". "OH MA GAA, NOOOOO" one might yell in fury and frustration like none have ever imagined. Alas, however, this is true. So one should NOT yell "OH MA GAA, NOOOOO" in fury and frustration like never imagined.

In my LAST journal, some interesting things happened. Interesting... LASAGNA! YA! LASAGNAA! I ate mucho lasagna. MU-MUCHO. I ate a special kind of lasagna, the kind of lasagna that turns cannibal and eats other lasagnas just to fatten itself up; it's like the meaty flesh of 3 lasagnas in one.

The portal I jumped through was QUITE badly positioned. It was on the ceiling. So when I jumped through I fell. And fell. And fell. And then I went SPLAT! but the little critters didn't care, they just continued applying their various cosmetics to look pretty. And when I got up, I said with a grin, "OH MY, YOU ARE SO QUITE SO PRETTY" and they smiled politely and spoke Russian. I must be getting closer.

I was in a dark cave of some sort, the ceiling very high up. I fell from that high ceiling, DID JOO KNOW THAAT? DIDJA? EHH? No. You didn't. Cause I never wrote anything like that in my journals. And you backtrack and read the previous paragraph, and you say "B-bu-but sir, you s-s-said that y-y-yu-you f-f-fell and f-f-fell and f-f-fell" and I say "NO." and you say "B-b-but" and I say "NO" and you say "B-B_B_BB__B-wEWdR##@-bB_$#%B_bs-ohmagawshthere'sachickeninhereit'seatingallmyfishpiesandIquitelikefishpiesbutIcan'tkeepmakingthembeausetheyjustEATthem456^jkg-B__b-B-B-UUUUTT" and I say "I SAY NO" and I slam the door in your face, but you were slightly to close to the door, so when I slammed it and the door hit your nose and you go "OH MY OWWWWW" and on the other side of the door I give a sly grin.

I walk into a connecting tunnel in the caves, and I emerge into this large carvern. There a woman is stirring a large pot. A VERY large pot. In fact, the pot was larger than the woman. I must also admit, the woman was MUCHO larger than the pot. And the dog was smaller than the pot and the woman, albeit so big the pot can go for a swim in his mouth. It was all so very confusing.

The woman turned around, and went "BARK BARK BARK!" and the dog cleared his throat, put on a monocle and spoke in a heavy French accent "Excuse my pet, she ees verry verry hyper zooday. Would zoo like some of her deelizious soup? She makes quite ze soup."

I said "OH NO GOOD SIR, I AM JUST LOOKING FOR THE SPESHUL DISHWASHER, FILLED WITH C-C-CA-CAA-CAAA-CAAAA-CAAAAA-CAAANDY GOIN FOR A RINSE" but the dog had fallen asleep. I walked on.

At this juncture in the narrative, I was feeling quite fatigued, so I fall asleep in mid step and fall down this inconveniently placed 60 foot hole. There were sharp rocks jutting out from the walls of this hole, and I get tossed around falling and flipping.

FLIPPING YOU SAY? OH QUITE.

As my body smacked into this particularly thick rock, (it had called out in frustration "AY, WATCH WHERE YER GOIN MORON". [And then I smacked into another rock who said "Why, I quite like this actually, hmm, yes"]) I spoke in my sleep. I said "Oh grandma, you smell nicely of lemons and toothpaste."

In Northern Iceland, my grandma jerks upright, and goes, "OH GRANDSON!" The unfortunate truth about this was that my grandmother lives in a nursing home with various other grandmothers and grandfathers, and her good friend Beatrice Ricey doesn't agree with that statement. She said "Ég er ekki sammála með þessi staðhæfing, í raun það gerir mig alveg mjög reiður, ó svo reiður. Ó nei öllum hundarnir mínir hafa skyndilega breytt í töfrandi töfrum yfirlýsingar kaldhæðni, nei!"

In other words, I woke up at the bottom of 60 foot pit of stunning magical irony statements with a migraine that now comforts me to this day, and recalling a dream of a piece of paper that wakes up and goes "OHHMMMM I'M GONNA EATCH YA" and I say to the paper "NOO DON'T. I HAVE SO MUCH TO INK FOR" and the paper goes "I HATE IT WHEN I GET INK ON ME" and then he... well he ate me. And I woke up.

Those little critters from earlier come bouncing through and say "MY THAT WAS A STRANGE DREAM". I say, "WOW YOU CAN SPEAK ENGLISH. COOL" and then the little critters smile politely and speak Russian. Except it was the dynamite version of Russian; it's Russian with some POW and some BOOM and some BOOM BOOM POW in it.

I get so mad I scream "AU CONTRAIRE SHOES EAT PEOPLE."

Then I see a light. A lit light. A lit light of the lighty brighty sighty farty variety. Heh. Farty. And then the subway train comes barreling through, sayin "CHOO CHOO BABAY BOY, CHOOO CHOO-EY!" And I see a tunnel. I go through the tunnel, and I go through it again, and again, because I liked this particular tunnel. It was made of scissors. "Yum, scissors." I said to myself.

And then there's a big EXPLOSION BOOM WOW WOAH FIRE and then the clorks come flattering down... WAIT MY BELUGA WHAAAALE. The... FOR-REKS-KS... come CLAT-TER-TERING... frown? No no that's not quite right. Down. DOWN WITH A PRETTAY PRETTAY FROWN, except it's no frown. It's a clown. A frowning clown, except they SUPPOSED TO BE SMILIIINNN AND CHIZ.

Chizzy chiz. Lizzy has some chizzy. CHIIIIZZZZ???

Anyway, the Tunnel of Forks came crashing down, (Wasn't it the Tunnel of Turtles? Or Scissors? Or Turtle Sculptures Made Out Of Scissors?) blocking my exit. It reminds me of my mother. I cry.

I stroll bravely forward. And then the swarm of beavers came.

It started with a low chittering noise. It slowly grew larger, and then coming around the corner, were literally thousands of beavers. The beavers looked QUITE angry. (However, reading the expressions of beavers were Dave's department.) They all held paintbrushes. "FOR DU CHEEEEEEEEEEESE" they screamed in fury. "WE'RE GUNNA PAINT CHOOOO" they yelled. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" I screamed.

It turned out to be a HUGE misunderstanding. In reality, the beavers were quite fuzzy.

-Some Brilliantly Clever Ending Note Thing Is Supposed To Go Here, However I Am Much Too Lazy To Write One Right Now, AND OH MA GAA MY DINNER IS READY. Really good friend, I leave you to read you. HA. That makes no sen- OOOH SPAGHETTI. NOW I REEAALLY MUST GO. Oh ya by the way my name is Haman J. Palamani somthin I can't concentrate on names right now, I really must go to eat some spaghetti.