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Hidden Journal: Daisy's Sister
NOTICE: The following file is one of an ongoing series, transcriptions
of files decrypted from the hidden journal of Harrison Everett Stone.
For a summary of their provenance see the initial file, D910412.ZEN,
included in the release, "Hidden Journal: First Files."
--Kellis. Copyright 1998
File D9104130.TXT
<Sunday, January 16, 1972>
Late yesterday morning the telephone rang. An almost familiar woman's
voice asked, "Is this Harry Stone?"
I admitted it.
"This is Rose August -- Rose Wheeler August, Daisy's sister."
I laid my book down on the telephone stand. "Well, hi, Rose. I've
certainly heard about you."
"I'll bet," she said dryly.
"All good!" I hastened to assure her.
"Was it? How about my boobs being as big as hers?"
I chuckled, slightly embarrassed. I'd never met this woman. What if
it was a prank?
She didn't wait for my answer. "I suppose you'd think <that> was
good!"
"Yes. Wouldn't it reduce the sisters' natural competition?"
"If <you> had to hold them up all the time and find clothes that fit
them along with standard-sized hips, you wouldn't be so ... Hmm. You may
have a point there. We shared outfits and sympathized with each other --
after both reached full size."
"When was that?"
"Hasn't Daisy told you?"
"Hadn't thought to ask her."
"Want to know something a bit strange? We were both more noticeable
at fourteen than we are today. That is, they're fuller now but then they
stuck straight out." She laughed, a husky contralto exactly like Daisy's.
"I can't believe I'm telling this to a strange man."
"Yes, I gathered your husband wasn't listening."
For a moment she was silent. "Didn't Daisy tell you I'm separated?"
"She may have, Rose. Excuse me. I'm never sure how to respond to
that. Should I offer sympathy or congratulations?"
"It's a defeat, Harry. It means you're talking to a stupid bimbo."
"Hardly that! It takes two to separate."
She snorted. "Thank you." I heard her take a breath. "Listen, the
reason I called is, I believe you have a key to Daisy's apartment."
"So do you. Daisy told me."
"Yes, I do, <some>where! That's what it's about. I'm supposed to
water her oxalis today but I can't find that key."
"Her flowers?"
"Yes."
"Want me to do it?"
"Could you?"
"Well ... Sure. In principle. I know flowers are the plant's sex
organs. Beyond that my ignorance takes over."
"Beyond that you probably don't give a damn."
"Now, Rose. All flowers aren't the same."
"What you mean is that all men aren't the same. But they are when
you've been without them long enough."
Whoo! I said, "How much water? Where's her pitcher?"
"You never noticed?"
"I noticed a lot of pink flowers but I never saw them watered."
"Then you don't have any idea how much water to use, do you?"
"I said I was ignorant. I'm sorry."
"Men always give too much."
"Maybe so. I always figured when you're thirsty, too much is better
than too little."
"When you're thirsty ... it's because you haven't been getting
enough."
I couldn't resist. "Or because your expectations are high."
"What do flowers expect?"
"Everyone expects what they get accustomed to."
"Oh? And what are <you> accustomed to?"
"Me? I'm getting thirsty, too."
She paused just as the game was becoming pleasant. When she spoke her
voice was lower in her throat. "I know you mean well, Harry, but you'd
drown the plants and make a mess. How about just letting me in?"
"Well, --"
"That's right, you don't know me. You come in, too."
My turn to pause. "Is that wise, Rose?"
"Hmm... Daisy's been in Europe for two weeks, hasn't she?"
"Yes."
"Is it getting hard for you?"
Actually there <is> another way to interpret that question! My dick
was about half erect, resonating to the tones of her voice, so like
Daisy's. I noted, "She's due back next Saturday."
"Do you hear from her?"
"Yes. She's called and written. Once, each."
"She never was a great correspondent."
"While you lived in Tampa?"
"Right off the air force base. She <did> tell you I was separated!"
"I think so. Last fall."
"Last summer. It's been awhile. Will you let me in, Harry?"
A while since what, exactly?
"If you wish, Rose. We can tell her about it together."
She chuckled throatily. "I don't think she'd be interested in hearing
how we watered the flowers."
"Don't you? I think she would. When?"
"It's almost lunch time. Let me buy you lunch at that sandwich shop
across the street from her place."
"I'll meet you there at noon. Then we can argue about who pays."
"It's a date!"
I put down the phone and dropped into the chair. This was a chance
I'd been dreaming about repeatedly as the nights passed without Daisy.
But with her own sister! Clearly this woman had the same idea. Or was
that my dick thinking? Easy enough to find out. But what if dick-brain
was precisely correct? Would I mortgage my future to Rose for a few
minutes in her twat? Probably, if she was enough like the one I yearned
for on sleepless nights while whipping my dick into submission.
Or was it truly so serious? Daisy had intimated more than once that
her sister would be welcome in our bed, though I had understood her always
to mean a threesome. How would she feel about a twosome absent herself?
No, I decided. I'd not cheat on Daisy -- at least not with her own
sister!
That decided, I shaved, showered, splashed the aftershave (I know) and
appeared in the sandwich shop at 12:05. A woman the same size as Daisy,
also brunette but with a more heart-shaped face and a smaller mouth,
appeared at 12:10. I stood up beside my postage-stamp table that
supported a single coke and waved to her.
"You're Harry," she cried, looking me up and down as she drew near.
"Little sister is doing all right!"
"Thank you, Rose. You and she are both lovely. Please join me."
She came to my table and folded a surprisingly luxurious mink coat
into an unused chair. I saw that her superstructure, even behind a heavy
sweater, was of Daisyish proportions. When she was seated I beckoned to
the waitress. Rose smiled. "We're much alike, aren't we?"
I nodded agreement. "You're the older?"
"By a year less one day. Mom claims Dad got impatient but I believe
she was the anxious one."
I laughed. "You're Daisy's sister, all right. I've seldom known
women so frankly spoken."
"Does it bother you, Harry?"
"I think it's charming."
"'Charming.'" Her eyebrows rose. "That's an old-fashioned word."
"In many ways I'm an old fashioned man."
She nodded. "So Daisy says. She told me about your macho infidelity
theory."
I shook my head. "<I> never claimed it."
"I thought you did! I'm interested in the part about the man's
infidelity being of no importance."
"You didn't find it so?" I suggested, pretending to misunderstand her.
She frowned and looked away. "<He> wasn't the one. At least, I
didn't catch him."
"Sorry." The waitress had finally noticed us. I said, "I'll have a
ham and cheese sandwich with lots of mustard. The tuna melt is pretty
good if you want to go light."
She ordered the tuna melt, but not very lightly. She added bacon and
cucumber slices. Exactly like her sister.
During lunch we exchanged backgrounds. Her life was what I knew of
Daisy's in nearly every detail up to the sophomore year at State, when her
steady got her pregnant. They decided to have it and both dropped out of
school. He joined the air force and they got married on his leave from
basic training -- or whatever they call it in the air force. Serious
kids!
The proximate cause of all that disruption was spontaneously aborted
when Rose's new husband fell asleep and drove into a parked ten-wheeler at
60 m.p.h.
"I wish I had a real drink," she declared, staring at her watery coke.
A tear trembled on her eyelash.
"What happened to him?"
He was decapitated by the truck undercarriage. Rose survived it. All
the lasting bruises were internal: to her soul and her uterus. No more
children.
"Good god, Rose!" I exclaimed, laying my hand upon hers. "I'm sorry!"
"Thank you." She turned her hand over and clasped mine.
Very fortunately they had been legally married. She took the
insurance and her survivor status and moved into military housing near the
base to which he had been assigned. She married again, a fighter pilot of
all people! But he was more than tolerable when he was home. She was the
cause of their separation, though she wouldn't say exactly what her
offense had been.
"He's still flying?"
"But not for uncle. Now he's an airline pilot." She chuckled grimly.
"Though I hear he's on probation. Has this terrible habit of doing
victory rolls when he approaches the base."
"Are you serious?"
"I'm told he actually did one with 94 passengers aboard. Of course
the airline hushed it up."
I described my near miss last year at Newark, when the plane rolled up
on its side, actually scraping a wing tip, to avoid someone taxiing on a
cross-runway. "Maybe that was a similar problem."
"Huh! He turned the plane completely upside down!"
I had to agree, that sounded a bit drastic.
"At Newark? Do you travel a lot, Harry?"
So we discussed me: nothing that needs these curlicues.
She insisted on paying. "I know you make a good salary, Harry, but
guess what: I <invested> that insurance money!" She grinned at me. "I
bought Kinsong when it was two dollars a share."
Good god! I'd been chastising myself for not doing the same -- that I
was in school and broke at the time being no consolation. Kinsong is the
great success story of the age. It closed at 72 on Friday after splitting
four times in the last two years. And everyone knows what a military
widow gets. She'd had ten grand to invest!
I took her right hand, kissed it and grinned at her. "First time I
ever kissed a hand that can write million dollar checks."
She snatched it back. "Don't tell me I've just bought Daisy's
boyfriend!"
We both laughed. Had she?
She added, "Besides, you're wrong. I'm left-handed."
On the stroll across the street I asked brashly, "Do you differ from
Daisy anywhere other than the checkbook?"
She snorted. "What a question! Aside from being slightly older?
Well, yes. Daisy has always admitted I'm also slightly prettier. What do
you think?"
I shook my head. "'What a <stupid> question,' is what you mean. It's
just that I noticed how exactly like Daisy you walk. When you stepped up
to the curb there, you even twisted your heel back and forth just as she
does."
"You've studied her closely, have you?"
"Make no mistake, Rose. I love her."
"So she told me. There's another difference, Harry. She can bear you
a child."
I kept quiet for that one. She grinned. "Not that it makes any
difference in the short run."
"But you're a person who takes the long view," I noted. "What made
you buy Kinsong when everyone thought it was worthless?"
"My new husband."
"Really?"
"His uncle was a VP. I actually got it for a buck sixty."
Remarkable! She could've bought more than 60 lots, now worth about
seven mil after doubling four times.
We passed one of Daisy's neighbors in the lobby. She stared at me, at
Rose's coat then Roses's face, and did a double-take. Rose chuckled and
took my arm. The stare turned into a glare.
As we waited for the elevator, Rose whispered, "Wonder how soon she
tells Daisy."
"I'm more concerned with <what> she tells Daisy!"
"Oh, that's easy. You took a strange woman into Daisy's apartment,
probably into her <bed>!"
I choked as Rose laughed gaily. She leaned closer. "She'll probably
have us kissing in the lobby."
She looked up at me roguishly. I braced but saw motion beyond her.
"The dingle just left," I announced as the front door clicked shut.
"The dingle?"
"That's Daisy's name for her. She has several sets of wind chimes on
her balcony."
"Has she! Have you spent much time on the balcony?"
"Last summer. In the evenings. It's above the bugs."
"Not above much else, I bet!"
The door opened before that went deeper. We were alone on the
elevator. I leaned close, sniffed ostentatiously and sighed.
She smiled up at me and shook her head. "I'm sorry, Harry. I
shouldn't've done that."
"You knew it was the same perfume?"
"I do now. I gave her the Chanel Number Five Christmas before last.
But I didn't set out to make it hard for you."
"Didn't you?"
She chuckled. "A separated woman, apparently as you said not getting
her customary share: do you think I mean to seduce you?"
"Ah, no. Why ever would I think that? It's the <plant's> sex organs
that need watering. You told me so yourself. What was the name of them
again?"
"Actually, you know, it's <roots> that need wetting! Oxalis. Red and
pink."
"Yes, like ..."
"Something else?"
"I was thinking of orchids."
"Were you!"
We both laughed. She explained, "Oxalis comes in all colors except
blue. I have some yellow ones in my window box."
"I only remember red and pink."
She nodded. "Trust a man to obsess on one kind."
"Isn't that how women prefer them?"
"Well, it depends."
"On the man?"
"On the woman. I've known some who'll have only one color, but as for
me, I like a variety."
I agreed dryly, "I'm beginning to understand that."
"Do you, Harry?"
When the door opened we marched off the elevator. Daisy's door was
only a few steps along the hall. I took out my key chain but Rose's hand
came out of her purse ahead of me, slipped a key in the lock and pushed
the door open. She passed into the apartment and turned around to regard
me.
"You found your key."
"Yes. Would you believe I called you back?"
"You were late at the restaurant. Why not?" I grinned teasingly.
"When you saw how charming I was, you decided not to send me home."
"You're partly right. Come in and close the door."
I obeyed her. She threw her coat on the couch. I stopped just
inside. "Rose, is this wise?"
She regarded me over her shoulder. "I'm supposed to ask that."
"You know Daisy better than I do."
She nodded and proceeded directly to the liquor cabinet, saying, "Yes,
that's true, Harry, more than you can guess. And you need to learn some
of it."
I came up beside her. She was spouting jiggers of Pinch into two shot
glasses. "What do I need to know?"
"Here." She handed me one. "Let's drink to our acquaintance."
I took it, touched it to hers. Best to humor her. "Our
acquaintance," I said, and threw it back concurrently with her.
I observed, "Daisy even told you I like scotch neat."
"So does she. And I. We've been drinking it that way for years,
Harry. Did she teach it to you?"
In fact Rose was right. I'd done little more than taste scotch whisky
before I met her sister. Daisy it was who introduced me to the incredible
aromatic effects of the good stuff. So I admitted it.
"Want another?" she asked.
"No, thanks."
"Well, come on. That oxalis truly is getting dry."
"You still haven't told me what it is I need to know."
"Harry, that's why I asked you to come up here with me."
"Serious as that, is it?"
"Yes."
"Darn! I was hoping you wanted to play."
Her eyes narrowed. She had quit smiling. "You don't sound serious,
Harry."
"Don't I?"
"No, you don't. If you really wanted that, it would make a big
difference. You might even get it. But that's all."
"Hmm. Implying that I'd miss something?"
She grunted. "Instead of me."
I said admiringly, "Lady, you are the deep one!"
"Am I? Maybe you haven't listened as closely to Daisy as you should
have."
I shook my head. "Ambiguity."
"What?"
"Women never quite say what they want, even relatively plain-spoken
ones such as Daisy and you."
She flashed a smile. "We want to keep our options open."
"Yes, you do," I agreed, "forever."
"Well, just now I want to water some flowers. Come along and see how
it's done."
"I'm not sure it's wise to learn this. <Plant's> sex organs are of no
interest to me."
"Well, sit in the den and listen, at least."
I took a seat on the couch while she filled a pitcher in the kitchen.
In a moment she appeared, one hand catching the drip, and marched to the
flower boxes under the line of east-facing windows. She poured gently,
hardly more than a trickle.
"I'm listening," I said after a while.
"I'm thinking how to begin," she responded, suspending her operations
momentarily to look at me.
"Some terrible revelation, Rose?"
"Many would think so, Harry."
"Then hold your peace, if it's about Daisy." I grinned deliberately.
"If it's about you stealing her boyfriends, go ahead."
"I've never stolen her boyfriend, Harry. It's about both her and me."
She released her breath. "She thinks a lot of you, says you're a very
nice guy who takes good care of her. Because of that, and because you're
not comfortable with cheating on her, at least not with her sister --"
"How do you know?" I interrupted.
"Huh! That's just two-weeks-without-any talking. I know because you
haven't touched me despite several veiled invitations."
"Well veiled!"
"Don't play dumb. We've been hinting at it and you know it!"
"Go on."
"Because you're a nice guy, you deserve to know what you're getting
into -- and Daisy deserves to know your reaction to it -- before either of
you overcommit."
"<Over>commit?"
"I understand you've asked her to marry you."
"That is correct." I grinned sardonically. "Having tried it twice,
do you consider marriage an overcommitment?"
She nodded. "It can be. What you don't know <can> hurt you! It's
what hurt my second one."
"What you didn't know?"
"What <he> didn't know!"
"I see."
"No, you don't. Not yet. But you will, I hope."
She turned back to the flowers, trickling the water carefully along
the inner edge of each planter. I moved to a chair at one end of the line
where I could see her face.
"You're beginning to make me curious," I admitted.
She put the pitcher down, came and stood directly before me, staring
into my eyes. "Harry, as the world sees it, Hardy, Daisy and I were
terribly abused as children."
Hardy is the nickname of Daisy's brother, Agnes's father. I still
haven't met him, though I've met his daughter too thoroughly.
I retorted, "I took a few licks myself."
"On your penis?"
I stared back. "No." But I had to add, "Not by those in authority.
That <is> what you mean, isn't it?"
"This is hard." She backed away. "I've only told this once before.
Even we siblings haven't discussed it. Come sit on the couch with me."
I followed her back to the couch. We sat apart, turned toward each
other so that our knees were almost touching. She said, "If you repeat
any of this I'll deny it." Her eyes narrowed. "Nothing can be proven.
The prime movers are dead and the others won't talk. If you repeat it
I'll charge you with defamation, and I can afford the best lawyers."
"Don't threaten me, Rose. If you doubt me, say nothing further."
"I'm sorry. You're right; if I doubted you I'd've stopped already."
She took a deep breath. "It was our parents and grandparents, Harry."
I waited. Her eyes scanned mine. "We were raised in a big house in
Plainview. Has Daisy mentioned it?"
"Not that I recall."
"Our father's parents owned it. We lived with them in that big house.
They were Exxians, Harry."
"Spell it."
When she had, I commented, "Odd name. Then where did 'Wheeler' come
from?"
"You never heard of the Exxians?"
"I don't recall --"
"Not surprising. 'Wheeler' was our family name. Still is, of course,
except mine. The Exxians are a kind of religious organization, a secret
one, secret because it has very unusual views about sexual relations."
I'm sure my eyes widened with interest. "Like those people in Canada
--
what's the name, Shakers? -- who never get any?"
"More the opposite," she answered dryly. "The Exxians' symbol is a
big X, supposed to represent four turned-in penises. People are connected
through their penises."
"How about the ones who don't have any?"
"They're supposed to be the holders, or some such, on Sunday mornings,
at least."
"Hmm. Sounds interesting."
"I'm just getting started. They get together in somebody's house once
a week and have what amounts to an orgy."
"That's a little unusual," I admitted. "How many?"
"Oh, when we were young, typically about six couples and their kids.
An Exxian house has a room large enough for that many or more."
"Lot's of couches?"
"Built-in beds. Every penis in the house had to be held in a vagina
at least ten minutes on Sunday mornings."
"Even children?"
"If it could straighten, whether child's or man's, it had to be put
into a woman. Or a girl."
"What if the man was sick?"
"That didn't matter, if he could get it up."
"Just <any> vagina?"
"No. The Exxians prohibited incest after puberty. Father or mother
and child were forbidden if a girl had passed menarche or a boy had once
ejaculated, or both if brother and sister."
"So a boy could inseminate his sister, providing she had never bled."
"Yes."
"That's not rigorous."
"If you mean that incestuous conception might occur, I'm sure that
some slipped through, especially on nearly mature sisters and daughters."
"What did they do with a pregnant twelve-year old?"
"She'd miss school for a year and return with a doctor's certificate
for scarlet fever, or some such."
"And the baby?"
"The girl's mother would raise it as her own. I knew a girl whose
'big sister' was actually her mother."
"Otherwise <any> vagina?"
"Yes. All week a married couple would be faithful but on Sunday at
the 'meeting' they renewed their faith, as they put it."
"Sounds complicated. How'd they arrange it -- draw lots?"
She nodded. "That was done sometimes. Just about everything was
tried. But rotation was considered most fair."
"What kind of theology went with it?"
"Nature is the god and vice-versa. Humans must behave in harmony with
nature's great creation, as interpreted by the flock leader from the
writings of Hiram X."
"Hiram X? Hmm. Was Malcolm X an Exxian?"
"Wasn't he a Moslem? I remember now; the Exxians were indignant
about it. Malcolm's crowd changed their last names to 'X' because their
existing names had derived from white slave holders."
"Are all the Exxians white?"
"They were here. But it's not a requirement. Exxians believe blacks
and whites are both products of Nature."
"I heard that capital! So who was Hiram X? Presumably the first
Exxian."
"I don't know about that. He was the Exxian with the all time largest
penis."
"I might have known! And your 'flock leader' was the local man with
the biggest?"
"That's right."
I had to grin. "Who held the scale?"
She shook her head. "No scale. The nubile women voted."
I had to nod. "That makes sense." My nod became a chuckle. "An
interesting way to limit the franchise! Did they have challenges from
upstart erections?"
She grinned. "No, as I recall it, an ambitious man had to persuade a
woman to complain."
"Marvelous! The flock leader had to keep the flock relatively
satisfied, did he? God, what a job!"
She shook off my levity. "Do you understand what this means about
Daisy?"
"Hmm. I don't know that I do."
"She had sexual relations with her brother, her father, her
grandfather and every male in several Exxian families, often in demand
because men can't outgrow their infantile fixation on boobs, from age
four, about, up until she was fifteen."
"Lucky bastards!"
Her eyes narrowed. "That's pretty flippant!"
"Maybe so, but it's heartfelt! Age <four>, did you say?"
"About. She might have been younger. A girl's virginity was taken
whenever she was needed to right the male-female balance. Of course the
oldest was always taken first."
"Sounds terribly cold-blooded!"
"Do you know, it was done very tenderly with a wax instrument the week
before she actually had to serve."
"Such a little girl! That doesn't sit well at all."
"She didn't either for a day or two. But, Harry, I understand it's
less painful than what most girls endure."
"You remember it, do you?"
"Certainly. I was fascinated. And very proud."
I grunted. "Hard to argue with a woman about it! What happened at
fifteen?"
"When Daisy was fifteen and I sixteen, Grandfather died of a heart
attack one Sunday morning and Grandmother killed herself that night."
"Good god!"
"It caused a stink that the Exxians couldn't quite hush up. The cops
went to a lot of trouble trying to detect foul play. They were able to
determine that a big crowd had been in the house; our place had the most
comfortable meeting room. But nobody would talk to them, of course. So
they wanted to interrogate the little kids separately. Two judges refused
to believe that such ordinary middle-class people could be guilty of what
the cops suspected. That's all that saved them. The cops leaked it to
the newspapers but without corroboration the editors had to sit on it. It
was very close! The Exxians had to lay low for a while.
"Daisy, the youngest, was well past menarche, of course, so even for
her the incest was finished. Mother and Dad ... I guess they never fully
agreed with the faith, though Mother was from another Exxian family. When
the Exxians voted to disband for two years, we moved, and that was the end
of that. Dad called us together and told us we would henceforth cease to
defy the rest of the world. No Exxian would ever be welcome in our house.
End of era. Don't even mention it again. And we haven't.
"Except for two cases. In a weak moment I told my husband about it
last spring. I had no idea he was such a prig about things in the past
with no bad effects, nor that he had such a temper. He went to my
brother's house, called him out and kicked the shit out of him. He was
arrested, paid the fine and never came back to me. In April he plans to
sue me for divorce on the grounds of a year's separation, claiming half my
Kinsong holdings as community property."
"You can probably beat that if you bought it all with your own money."
"So the lawyers tell me."
"He didn't explain himself to you?"
"Yes, he did, if you call it an explanation." Her eyes glittered with
angry tears. "He spoke of my body 'befouled by my own family' and his
'befouled by extension.' Touching me induced 'intolerable images of past
lewdness.' He actually vomited on the floor in our living room."
"Did your brother sue him?"
"No, of course not. Jim would love such a bully pulpit."
I shook my head. "That's tough, Rose. Did he threaten Daisy?"
"He threatened the whole family."
"Well, if he comes to beat Daisy, he'll find me waiting -- with a
.45."
Her eyes scanned mine. "You'd fight for her, Harry?"
"At the first insult."
She sighed. "You don't feel she's been degraded beyond recovery?"
"She's not degraded at all. And your Jim -- that's his name?"
"Jim August. But he's not <my> Jim."
"Jim August is stupid. The only place a woman can be degraded is in
her own mind. That certainly has not happened to Daisy and it obviously
has not happened to you."
"No, it hasn't." She smiled tremulously.
"What's the second case?"
"The second -- oh. This is the second case."
I frowned. "What do you mean? Are you worried I'll assault you or
Daisy when she returns?"
"What's your reaction?"
I shrugged. "You've heard it."
Her chin came up. "Harry, I'll tell you now: Daisy is fortunate
to've found you. I agree with Hardy. I support your suit for her hand."
"'Suit for her hand!' Now who's being old-fashioned!"
She chuckled. "May I kiss you?"
I got to my feet and pulled her up beside me. "As brother- and
sister-in-law?"
"Hopefully," she added, coming into my arms and meeting my lips. It
was a fairly long kiss, as chaste kisses go, a "get acquainted" kiss, I
think. We'll probably never have another like it.
I walked her to her Cadillac, a huge custom-decorated convertible.
Lavender, would you believe! We parted with another kiss and a commitment
to meet, myself with all three Wheelers, shortly after Daisy returns. An
interesting family! Think I've already mentioned some of the puns to be
made on their name. Wonder what's in their family album. Nothing
interesting, I guess, or the cops would've used it.
I'll have to write this up in the open diary, but I'll be brief. All
we actually did was water the oxalis.
Now I know who taught Daisy to suck dicks so well -- correction: who
served as her experimental subject. Presumably I'll be shaking his hand
in a few weeks. Unfortunately there's no way I can thank him.
But who taught his daughter? Apparently Daisy's father didn't stamp
out all the Exxian influence!
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