Z'Corkey'sFIELDBOOK

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.