Z'Wunderzuffin, "Around the block again", 2539 Year of the Pig

LIFE JOURNAL ENTRY :  41796, Year of the Diamond Back, Heckle Hound

Dear Life Journal,
At first, when I sat down at my desk, after having removed the chair cover.  The said chair cover needed because Walter always seems to use my chair, rather than a ladder, to change the light bulb above my head.  It does not seem to matter to anyone that I have consistently and repeatedly over the past 130 years or more put in endless requisitions for proper lighting for my office.  Even when I bring Z'Corkey's name into the matter it seems to get shuffled off to an endless line of committees that either die out or keep moving my request to the bottom of the pile.

Be that as it may, after folding up the cover and storing it under my work table, (The last one I put out into the hall to find later that Walter had taken it home with him to use as a new shower curtain, or so he said).

I had left my current journal in my locked drawer.  It is a new one I am working on to help stimulate me into applying better focus on my well being.  I have not received any new shipments, communications, mail or packages from Z'Corkey for some time now.  I have updated my catalogue, put in the required request forms for improvements in the different storage areas, re bricked the pathway in the greenhouse.  I've waited 10 years for Ralph to re-set the bricks and I can no longer push the trolley over the despicable condition of that path.

I am slightly concerned about the lack of communication from Z'Corkey although this has happened before.  Once he was time traveling and found himself stuck in a tornado loop on the planet of Algodion.
He popped back in looking quite windblown and said he was off to get a haircut since his hair was now quite knotted up.  I offered him my hair conditioner, it works wonders on my rather saucy curls. He declined and pointed out that perhaps shorter hair might be a good idea, less for the bad guys to grab on to.  That kind of talk does set my teeth on edge.  I have to just breathe deeply and allow for the fact that Time Lords manage to get out of most messes sooner or later.

Actually, there is a show on PBS that I sometimes manage to catch, if Mama has had chili for supper and too many Bud Light's to wash it down.  The star of that time traveling show seems to change every so often but I think he is generally referred to as Dr. What or perhaps it is Where?  Those Bud Light's often put me to sleep in the middle of the show.  Actually, Where would make more sense.
Z'Corkey shows no similarities to these fictional shows.  One, he doesn't travel with anyone, to my knowledge, he never interferes in local government and he has been known to travel outside this particular galaxy.

Anyway, I digress, I took my journal out from my locked drawer to find it somewhat heavier than I had left it on Friday.  Now, I know I did not work out at the gym like I usually do on Sat. being since I had a very important appointment at the shooting range.  Michael very nicely said that he would show me how to use an M4A1, which is a heavier barreled, fully automatic assault rifle and much nicer than the M4 I have been using.

Now, before you get your panties in a bunch, may I remind you that I have to patrol some areas of this sub terrain basement complex of storage units by myself.  In some of these areas, there are large boxes with air holes, that are missing one end of the box.  That tells me that also roaming these same dark, dank, gloomy storage areas is some large, ugly, exotic animal that Z'Corkey has shipped here.
An animal that perhaps is not partial to being kept in a box and for whatever reason has decided escape is its only option?  And, before you start jumping up and down shouting, I have tried many different types of tranquilizer guns and have not found one that works on nasty, alien animals.

Whatever Z'Corkey uses to put them into hyper sleep it usually works for years and years but occasionally there is a problem and that's when it is up to me to solve it.  A stuffed alien animal is probably not quite as interesting as a live one but until Z'Corkey comes up with a different plan, I will continue to humanely deal with these problems with my M4A1.

After YOU have faced one of the unpleasant, angry, huge alien, NASTY, alien animals and not wet your pants then we will talk about a Plan B.

So, back to my journal.  I hefted it up on my desk wondering what and why it seemed different.  The cover seemed the same.  I turned a few pages and they were the same.  A book dedicated entirely to me and my self-care.  I turned another page which I had left blank.  The first section was going to deal with physical issues when I noticed that those blank pages were no longer blank.

Here you can see the first altered page.

And, this one.

And, this.

I looked closely at the handwriting and suddenly recognized it as Z'Corkey's 1800's scribble. Depending on where he has been and for how long I can often see a distinct difference in lettering and composition in his records.

Now, my handwriting has never changed one bit since I learned cursive from Madam Z'Orastian in second level.  After crushing my paper with her one large paw and tossing it out the school room window she lowered her head to look me in the eye and said, "EVERY LETTER HAS ITS OWN DESIGN.  Its own unique design.  Every letter is beautiful and YOU WILL MAKE SURE THAT EVERY LETTER YOU WRITE WILL BE BEAUTIFUL.  I suppose I need to remind you that the Zettian alphabet has 4356 letters.  I feel some are redundant but no one asked me.  I can proudly say that if Madam Z'Orastian were alive today, or perhaps alive but here on this sad little planet, she would be very proud of me.  Unfortunately, I have no use for writing Zettian except in my journal when I wish to keep my thoughts private from that snooping, son of a pig, Walter.

With great pride,
Z'Bea, a faithful, dedicated, loyal, UNPAID, Volunteer for the Zettian Homeland Historical Society and niece of Z'Corkey, a couple of times removed.

Life Journal Entry 39242 Year of the Wolf - 10

Dear Journal,
We are taking a much needed break. At this particular juncture of the hallways, the light is still good and the smell tolerable. I have suggested to young Z'beatrice that if she wishes to get home for tea she should leave now. It appears she is going to stay with me. Frankly, that is quite fine with me. Sometimes there are things in these cages that get loose, things that rumble around in their crates and I could use the extra help if we have to lasso any of them back on the shelves.
I have found as we have walked this particular tunnel, Z'beatrice has little to say. She seems overwhelmed with the scope of these storage facilities. She also seems slightly concerned about the sounds she hears or thinks that she hears coming from unknown quarters.

On another note I am perplexed about the untied ribbon on Cage Number 14392. I distinctly remember tying a very special knot when I finished working in there. It was at the time I was studying the Girl scout Manual, that I had found on the bus ride, to work. I assume Girl Scouts are young women in training to be scouts for Time Travelers. I know Sir Corkey has hired a few to lead expeditions. I found the knot tying very informative. AND, I distinctly remember practicing, a Round Turn & Two Half Hitches knot, on that Cage door when I finished working in there.

I am proud to say that I had mastered the list of knots. There is no way that simply came undone.

So, who has been in that cage? Otto? Warren? I know the mail room is a rather dull and boring place to work but I didn't think they had the initiative to actually explore these lower levels.
I shall need to speak to them when we return.

Z'beatrice seems to have the idea that we shall be returning home this evening in time for supper having missed high tea. I have tried to explain to her that this is a rather long expedition and that we shall be traveling for a few days. I do wish she had brought her own toothbrush.
Luckily, I am prepared and in my kit I have extras of most everything except ......well, there really isn't any reason to go into that here.

It's time to move on. We have rested enough and have eaten our protein bars. A swig of water and then off we go. Until later, dear diary.

With great dedication,
Z'bea

Year of the Wolfe - Month of the Snow Moon - 7

I was about to leave my cubicle and start down to the warehouse when I heard a clattering in the hallway. Z'beatrice shoved her head in my door and said, "Howdy!" A totally unsuitable salutation for a young woman.

Apparently, after seeing my cart she has decided to spend the day with me and keep me company as we venture down to the warehouse. She is fascinated with the idea of "cages". I have told her that this is simply the term that the Zetti Homeland Historical Society uses for storage spaces.

I had to find another flashlight for her and for some reason she threw a two life jackets and two pairs of goggles on the cart. She said she just felt like it. There is room but certainly no need for them.

I locked my office door and we started off down the hallway.

"It's really quiet down here, isn't it?" she said.

"Well, technically, there aren't isn't any other staff that have offices down here." I replied.

"Then, why on earth are you down here? Why not have a nice bright sunny office upstairs?

"Unfortunately, often the parcels and packages that Sir Zetti Corkey sends are not suitable for opening upstairs. They need to be labeled, sorted and stored down here and it makes more sense to just be closer to the cages. Also, my job is to inventory all the cages with his fieldwork finds and those are all down here."

" Well, who else helps you?"

"Just me." I replied proudly.

"Well, that isn't right. There is this huge building and I passed some quite plush offices upstairs and tea carts and quite fancy digs and it didn't seem like anybody was doing anything of any merit, up there."

"Tut, tut, let's just not talk about things that are none of our business. I'm aware of the staff in the main building but they are paid employees and I am just a volunteer. It's quite different."

"It isn't right." she muttered.

"Time to turn on your flashlight. The light bulbs in this end of the hallway are not always on." I told her."

"Not surprised, am I." she sneered. "It looks creepy down there." she whispered.

I felt her take my hand. A pleasant surprise and rather nice.

I asked her if she wanted to help push the cart with me. She seemed to feel safer walking next to me, hands on the cart.

It's rather dark since we turned that last corner.

Life Journal Entry 39241 Year of the Wolf - 31

Dear Journal,

I am at a loss to understand how I am to keep this young Zettite home. Her curiosity abounds.

She returned home to Great Aunt Martha's home with bags of things she found curious.

She rather reminds me of Sir Corkey.

I have suggested that she start a Life Journal, like Sir Corkey or perhaps a Fieldbook with Observations.

Some of her items, from her bag, will need to be returned to their original places. I have tried to explain to her that their removal is against the laws of this country or state. For example the nice metal sign with a picture of a jumping deer on it, a time table for mail pickup and an American flag. She tells me that she is collecting to better understand the people. Hogwash.

I've tried to get her to talk about her homeland. Obviously, it is still a painful subject for her. She says that she was fortunate that Sir Corkey turned up when he did because she was totally a drift without anyone, at that point in her life.

I am confused, was she in the sea? What happened to her family? Where was this event and why was Sir Corkey there? As, you can see, for every one question I ask she manages to increase my list of questions by twenty.

My problem now is this continuous disappearing and reappearing. If Sir Corkey were to check in and want to speak with her and she's gone and I don't have a clue where she has gone, what am I to say?

I am giving this problem a great deal of attention. I have decided that in order to think carefully on this I will need to be working on a laborious job at the Zetti Homeland Historical Society.
I have decided to open up Cage #13587 and begin to sort the material that is stored in that cage.

I have certainly put off this chore for years and years. The mess in that Cage is beyond belief.
There are boxes and crates of things that have a distinct smell to them. What would be ideal is to get Z'beatrice involved in helping me. So far, she has shown little interest in anything that I do and her one trip down to the sub basement, level three resulted with her telling me that it was a disgusting, dark, damp, moldy place and I should complain.

So, I will go into work tomorrow and gather my sorting supplies and cart and take the tunnel walk to Warehouse 23. I will need to create a list of supplies to take with me. This is a long walk from my office. I will most certainly need a good quality flashlight with back up batteries, a jug of water, some tea biscuits, a apron, gloves, cat, my night goggles, my small ivory handled pistol, a shopping bag, a thermos of tea, a tennis racket, sleeping bag, change of clothing, ballet shoes and plenty of paper pads and pens, not to mention my sturdy black shoes and crochet hook.

Good night, my dear journal. I have much to prepare for and do.
With great dedication,
Z'bea

Memo to fellow members of the Committee- Year of the Wolf - 28

Dear Sirs,
It has come to our attention that there is a problem brewing in the sub basement level of our esteemed building. I have on my desk numerous requests, memos, threats, pleas from Miss Z'bea, requesting a bathroom on her level.
As we all know this would be impossible. Unfortunately, there is a serious problem with ignoring the woman.
She is the great grand niece of Sir Corkey and we all should be aware that Sir Corkey has donated heavily to this establishment, over the centuries.
Simply said, there is NO ONE that would be willing to work for nothing, sorting Sir Corkey's travel journals and paraphernalia. That is why he felt she would be perfect for the job.
A job, I admit that she has done an excellent piece of work. I've seen some of the "things" in storage that Sir Corkey has sent back to be catalogued. I wouldn't touch it with a ten foot pole.
My advise, to you, is to stay clear of the building. If you do need to visit, please do not engage in any conversation with the woman. Her memos have escalated and I do not know what she might do to rectify this bathroom situation.
Sincerely,

Z'bodeford
Director of the Zettiland Historical Society

Day of the Wolf-27 -

To Whom It May Concern,

I returned from my recent sick leave, which I took to tend to my Great Aunt Martha, bless her besotted mind and soul, to find a "sticky" note stuck to my "office" door.
I find "sticky" notes not a proper way to transfer important information. They should be used to remind one that bread or milk needs to be purchased. They should not be used to relay information of such an importance as a TELEGRAM from Sir Z'Corkey!

I was telling Great Aunt Martha about my volunteer job and the amount of important work I have to undertake when it became apparent to me that she couldn't hear a word I was saying. She was simply nodding her head and dropping her stitches. I took her to her doctor to find that she was dehydrated and stressed.

Stressed? She lives in a comfortable home, with her two cats a pleasant income from her three late husbands, what could possibly stress the woman? Dehydrated? The woman has a standing order with the corner bar to deliver a case of Coors to her once a month.

Perhaps the problem is with the choice of beer. I myself prefer a nice dark Mexican beer.
I took her home, settled her into her comfy chair, poured her a glass of beer and toasted some bread for her and suggested that she learn to breathe properly. Perhaps her stress is related to her short breaths due to the tight girdle she continues to wear.
She looked up at me and suggested that I sit down and have a beer myself because she had some rather disturbing news for me.
At that time I had no idea that I would need to request sick leave, to stay with her and make sure she ate proper meals and drank enough beer. I thought her problem easy to solve. I was so mistaken.

And, then when I finally do return to my volunteer position at the Zettiland Historical Society I find a "sticky" note, on my door, telling me that Sir Corkey, oh dear, I've told you that already haven't I? I'm afraid that I am quite flustered at the moment.

The problem is two fold, one that the telegram seems to mirror the same information that I received from my Great Aunt Martha and two that when I get flustered I find I need to go to the bathroom and that issue has still not been resolved.
I speak of the issue of the bathroom being on the third floor proper while I work/volunteer in the sub basement level three and there is no elevator from here to there. My endless memos, letters, pleas have resulted in absolutely no change in the situation. Apparently, it is still in Committee.

I thought I had solved the problem when I rented a Stays Upright Porty Potty.
Unfortunately, when it was delivered the gentleman told me that he was unable to bring it into the building and that it would have to remain outside which didn't help my problem in the slightest.

I realize that I am a volunteer, an unpaid worker for the Zettiland Historical Society but I do think there should be some consideration for the amount of work that I do for them in the sorting and storing, filing, flinging and cataloging of the immense amount of drivel that Sir Corkey sends back here to me.

And, yes I am getting to the point. This latest arrival is simply NOT something that I can handle in the usual manner. I mean, what does he expect me to do with her? He did expect Great Aunt Martha to deal with the problem. I suspect that over the years with all his Time Travel he has forgotten how old dear OLD Great Aunt Martha is now.
There is no way she can care for a young woman, whose connection to her is rather dim. I think she is the daughter of her mother's second cousin's brother-in-law.

I can't care for a young woman. What on earth am I to do with her? And, then there is the problem that I have lost her already.
I mention that only because I suspect it is temporary. She is a curious person and can't seem to sit still like a young lady should. I went to make a cup a tea for myself and pour another beer for Great Aunt Martha and when I came back into the room, she, the young woman had vanished.
Great Aunt Martha said that she often does this but does return. She is curious.
I think she is rude.
I think Great Aunt Martha is senile.
I think I am overworked and it's not a healthy situation for my bladder but nobody has asked me anything.
I take that back, Great Aunt Martha has asked me to assume responsibility for the young Zettite until Sir Corkey can sort out her inheritance.
And, I assume this is another unpaid job?

So, to take stock, I have in my hand a "sticky" note telling me that Sir Corkey has telegraphed a message that his ward, Z'beatrice will be arriving at Great Aunt Martha's home in a short time.
I have used up my sick leave taking care of a dehydrated, exhausted, beer guzzling Great Aunt that has "lost" said ward.
My tea is cold.
Z'beatrice is missing.
I have some explaining to do, I'm sure of that.

Let me think a bit.

Sincerely,
Z'bea, unpaid volunteer, of Sir Corkey's Field Notes and Etc., for the Zettiland Historical Society.
Located in the basement back corner on Level Three of the Sub Basement, the floor without a proper Ladies Room

A package had arrived!

To Whom It May Concern:

I arrived this morning at my normal punctuational time of 9 on the hour. Despite the crowded bus conditions of what used to be my enjoyable transportation to my volunteer job as Z'Corkey's Official Record Keeper for the Zettiland Historical Society. I used to be able to enjoy my tea and book but lately it seems that I have difficulty even finding a seat. This morning I stood next to a quite young man who refused to get eye contact with me as he continued to sit in what is normally my regular seat.

I'm afraid my large satchel, umbrella, metal tea container may have banged against his shoulder and head for the duration of the ride. It's not easy hanging on to a pipe when you have to hold so many items.

I did have a surprise, after I caught my breath, after walking down three flights of stairs, to the sub-basement level. First I found a notice or memo that had been slid under my door telling me that my repeated requests for a bathroom facility on the 3rd floor sub basement were now in Committee.

I'm ever hopeful.

The second surprise and not really appreciated on how it was delivered by Walter in the mail room. It is NOT necessary to deposit a filthy, obviously water soaked, at one time, extremely damaged package on the top of my spotless desk.

Walter we need to talk.

The package was from Zetti Corkey and I have to admit it is going to be a challenge to discover where it came from. The package looks like it has been to hell and beyond, forgive my language.

Inside I found a journal in a very, very, extremely sad state of repair. I am concerned about Sir Z'Corkey. This journal looks to have been in fire and water. He obviously considers it important because he has included a roughly drawn map of what appears to be a country and some object that could either be food or housing. Maybe the inhabitants are very tiny?

Today, I will be recording what I can of the first page of the journal.

There was no note attached from Sir Z.

I am hopeful that he is alright and still out exploring worlds in this time and that. I do wish he would think about how difficult this is for me without any information. I also know that he knows he can count on me.

Although, I have to admit that we have never actually met. Nooooooo, I take that back, I did meet another Sir Zetti Corkey from a parallel universe that popped in one day to hand me some artifact. We were both rather surprised. Apparently, there is a counterpart to myself somewhere out there. Unfortunately, he did not stay long enough to tell me about her or share any other information other than to tell me I wasn't Gina, which I knew already. He snatched back the artifact and disappeared.

I made a trip up three flights of stairs to the Ladies Rest Room.

Recorded and posted on this the day of the Blue Heron, 7-----

Yours truly,

Volunteer Z'bea

The unpaid volunteer in the back room on Level Three of the Sub-basement