Friday, November 17, 2006
New Beginning 158
The diary was another secret she kept. I discovered Mom's notebook in the kitchen hutch, hidden behind some old recipe folders. Without opening it, I knew what it was. The urge to know what she'd written about me itched like a scab.
“Don't do it,” said my inner Angel. “Even if she never finds out, reading someone’s diary is just plain wrong. Stealing a person’s privacy is as bad as stealing something tangible. Worse. You can never give it back.”
“Baloney,” said my inner Devil, adjusting her fishnet tights. “Given that she never shares anything with you and doesn't appreciate you, think of it as reconnaissance. In fact, it’s arguably self-defense, like viewing an eclipse through a hole in a box. Staring directly at the sun can blind you. Anyway, you're not going to use anything you read against her, so what could it hurt?”
"Forget the diary, let's eat all the cookies," said my inner child, digging in her nose with her finger.
"Screw her freakin' privacy, my inner New Yorker said, "Read whatever you damn well want."
"Leave her alone," said my inner unhinged loner. "We have bigger problems right now. Did you get the fertilizer?"
"It's out back," said my inner insurance adjuster. "But what are we going to do about the diary?"
By the time my inner Chihuahua weighed in, I was so confused I almost forgot what they were arguing about. I flipped open the notebook and turned pages until I hit--no pun intended--the mother lode.
She still doesn't know they are all real, it read. She thinks they are inner voices. It hasn't dawned on her that the tiny nanoprobes I inserted in her ears really do give me constant input into her decisions . . . Just wait until she starts hearing her inner Editor.
Opening: Amourpays.....Continuation: Daisy, Gutterball, Kate Thornton