Dear Diary

Its 11:58 on the Fourth of July and I fear all the other humans have retired to sleep. But I’m still sitting here in the dining room at the table by myself.

I’ve found the stash of chocolate in the freezer, and while the door is quiet, I fear the humans may hear me opening the candy wrappers. I’m not sure why, but candy wrappers are always the loudest thing there is when one is attempting to be quiet. 

I’m fairly certain they think I’m nuts here, though, so the loud candy wrappers wouldn’t surprise them. I do fear, however, dear diary, that I may wish to venture outdoors in the dark. But as the doors are all closed and locked, I fear I cannot leave. I am trapped here like a fish on the shore flippety flopping in the night with no one awake to push me back into the water. I’ve decided to make the best of it, but the chocolate may be gone by morning. It’s not my fault. I had to survive. 

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