THE JOURNAL OF N.V. BLY

Jan 3, 2347

One of the journals left behind by the Hell Bitch was the journal of one Mme B. Eggleston. The nature of this journal is often trivial and odd, but I can't afford to leave any stone unturned. I have chosen an entry at random. Eggleston rarely dates her entries, so I find myself at a loss trying to connect her journal to any useful information I have.

Entry from the journal of Mme B. Eggleston, date unknown:

Many stories start off by describing the weather, and this is no exception: It was hot. Truly hot. Hotter than Hades in summer. A group of my closest comrades and I were on a vacation in Ecuador, though Erz was the only one close enough to be worth mentioning by name.

Because of the extreme heat and my delicate skin’s negative reaction to salt water, I was not able to partake in the outdoor activities that most tourists travel to Ecuador for in the first place. Thus, I spent most of my time stark naked in my suite while everyone else enjoyed swimming, hiking, sunbathing, and generally having a splendid time. Granted, my experience was not all bad; I had quite the time experiencing the finer exotic components of Ecuador, such as the diverse assortments of alcohol and the even more diverse selection of men. Still, I was not having nearly as much fun as I should have been, and I could not understand why on earth my companions insisted that we extend our stay.

We stayed such a long time that I quite got used to not wearing anything at all. Not only did I get used to it, but it was quite enjoyable and liberating. You really don’t know how confining clothes are until you have no reason to wear them. Even after we returned to “civilized” society, I required almost a year of clothing rehabilitation just to be able to put a pair of pants on again.

Our little group had been in Ecuador for almost 6 months, and Erz was starting to get rather bored as well. I was awakened one day to a hullabaloo coming from outside. Looking out my window, I saw that Erz had organized a village tournament for the locals. She was engaged in a game of Coconut Croquet, in which the participants play a game of croquet using coconuts as the balls and machetes as the mallets. The object is to slice the coconut as you make a shot through the wickets and get both halves through in one stroke. Needless to say, Erz was dominating over her poor opponents with little difficulty.

I watched them for a while more, but I soon got bored and decided to go back to my siesta. I was about to turn away when Erz saw me in the window. She waved at me using a series of signals that only which translated to mean, “Get down here! We’re about to play Tightrope Trivia!”

Everyone knows that I have a predilection for both tightrope and trivia, so the prospect of a round or two greatly excited me. I rushed down to the courtyard, hopping up and down like a degenerate child, ready to take part in the wonderful game. Either no one noticed that I was completely exposed or no one simply chose to say anything, but I participated in the whole game completely naked and without sun protection.

In any case, I won the entire game by correctly answering which Shakespearean character was famous for the line “Speak hands, for me!” It’s obviously Casca from Julius Caesar, but the world is full of uncultured idiots, so no one else had even the slightest clue.

Thus, I ended my vacation in Ecuador with a bucket full of pride, hatred of anything tropical, and a third degree sunburn.

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