Dear Diary,
My prayers to Our Lady of Protecting Small Children From Harpies have not gone unheard: today was the third day of happy stickers. Every day apart from the scary lady and my son Michael grows happier and more alive. The haunted look is nearly gone from his eyes.
I saw Reginald in the market this afternoon. I tried to talk to him about having dinner with Michael and I, but he slinked away muttering something about "She Who Must Be Obeyed." What's gotten into him?
Outside the market I ran into Mrs. Corinthos. Literally! She was stalking down the sidewalk with her arms flailing and ran right into me.
"Leticia!" she shrieked. "What the hell are you doing here! Where's the brat? Er, I mean, my little bundle of revenge against AJ! What's-his-name! Where is he? I pay you good money to keep him out of sight and away from the parent who actually wants to see him. How dare you leave him alone! I could have you deported!"
Michael was home with a sitter, of course, but she continued with a stream of expletives that don't bear repeating even to you, dear diary. I put her off the usual way:
"Que?" I yelled in the thickest Speedy Gonzales accent I could muster. "No comprende! Qui es Leticia? Me Consuela!"
She threw up her hands and ran away, elbows akimbo. I thought to myself that the man who could put up with this woman must be brain damaged. Poor bastard.
Later in the evening I visited a popular nightclub. I'm not much for hanging out in bars, but I figure that if my son and I are going to be settling down in this town I need to meet some people besides Mr. and Mrs. Corinthos. Sweet Jesus, do I ever.
I overheard two men in the nightclub talking about a woman having premonitions of a fire the night before. He kept saying, "Laura's really good with these premonitions. If she sees something, then it must have happened."
I tried to tell him that premonitions refer to events that will happen in the future, one can't have a premonition about something that already happened. But he just grinned at me slack-jawed and said, very slowly, "Sorry, Chiquita, NO HAB-LO ES-PA„-OL! You got to speak EENGLEESH! Okay pumpkin?"
What is it with these people?