Dear Diary, Da spring is finally heres & da rich smell a manure will soon be in da air. I loves da smell a manure in da mornin’.
Da ground is tawin’ & soons we can get back ta business here in ol’ Bugtussle.
Dear Diary, Ya knows I likes me history, eh? Sure does.
Wuz some dang good at it, too, back in me days at Bugtussle High. I always had me hand up answerin’ all da tough questions ’bout da Stone Age, da Bronze Age, da Zinc Age. Heck, I could go all da way back from da Dark Ages to da Middles Ages, to da friggin’ Gilded Age, dat far back. And never miss meself a beat.
Dear Diary, Well, den, dats dat. Got me teachers all back to work. Dat didn’t take long.
Course, I’s basically what deys call self-taught so growin’ up in Bugtussle I didn’t have all da interactions wit da teachers dat otter kids had. Needer did me brodders or me sisters. But we wuz a happy bunch. Church mouse poor, but we wuz happy.
Dear Diary, ’Cuz it’s 2017. Been hearin’ a lot a dat lately. Don’t know what in da name a Sam Hill it means but every year somebody’s gotta come out and say ’cuz it’s 2000 dis, ‘cuz it’s 2000 dat. ‘Cuz it’s absolutely ridiculous is what I sez, Diary. Gettin’ on me friggin’ nerves it is.
Wells, I’s some dang glad da Christmas season is drawin’ to a close. But it sure wuz good, I guess, to git back home to Bugtussle and put me feet up fer a spell. Tings wuz gettin’ a little hectic, dere, near da end.
CONTACT US: Frank Magazine Box 295, Halifax N.S. B3J 2N7 -- Phone: 902 420 1668 -- Fax: 902 423 0281