So it begins.

I've just started a little war.

(And reached the home stretch to finishing this second pass through/rewrite. Yay me!)

And just because.

Need I say that I really, really want this?

Maybe it's because they weren't wearing the proper attire.

Comic courtesy of Medium Large.

It's just that it was early and I was tired.

That's why I didn't get up before dawn.

I did, however, set the VCR.

(Yes, I still have a VCR, thank you very much.)

That way, I can watch it at my leisure.

And use it for research.

(Yes, research. But not for me. For the little royals living in my head. No I am not crazy.)

No, I did not get up early to watch it.

I figured that they could get married without me.

And if they couldn't, well, I had no idea I played such an important role in their lives.

(And if I do, where was my invitation?)

(I did, however, watch it on BBC America when they replayed it at noon.)

Sometimes I surprise myself.

I had no idea I'd given that character a first name.

Apparently I had.

It only took rewriting this monster to realize it.

Way to go General, you're that much closer to having a past life.

(Any idea what your counterpart in the neighboring country was called?)

I will never paint vervains again...maybe.

I think spending seven hours painting them is enough, don't you?

(And no, it wasn't all at once. That would have been a tad crazy, and prone to mistakes, don't you think? I do.)

It's not you. It's probably me.

Sometimes it seems like the more popular something becomes, the more annoying I find it. I wonder why that is. I don't intend for it to happen. It just does. Maybe it's the inevitable overload and the constant feeling that I'm obligated to like it or think it's cool.

Perfect for when you need to match everything and nothing.

Last night I found a pair of pants that, when compared to a black pair looked navy, and when compared to a navy pair looked black. I was at a loss as to where to put them for there is no section for magic pants. Maybe it's time there was.

From the desk of Alex J. Hoover

Oak Street.

Quiet.

Unassuming.

The kind of street that makes you glad to be alive.

The kind of street you'd find neat lawns and smiling faces.

The kind of street that Mom and Dad are always talking about because it's just the kind of street they grew up on.

But in different houses.

And different towns.

And different states.

Oak Street.

There's probably one in every town.

It's the kind of street that anyone would want to live on.

Oak Street.

Two blocks down.

I don't live on Oak Street.

I live on Beech.

Beech Street is not Oak Street.

Beech Street has a dark side.

There's evil here.

That's right.

Evil with a capital E.

Just don't let it know that you know and you might survive.

But I do.

I know.

I know what evil lurks beneath the trees.

Ash trees.

Not beeches.

Come to think of it, there isn't a single beech tree on Beech Street. Weird, huh?

But back to the street.

Yup, Oak is the street to live on, but it you don't, if you can't, if you happen to find yourself living on Ash or Elm, then you've got to be on guard, and if you live on Magnolia, well, I don't have to tell you about evil, do I? Nope. Not at all.

Be on guard. That's the key to survival.

Not many people remember that. I do.

That's why I know what's really going on around here.

Sometimes I think I'm the only one that does, but it's my job to know.

You see, I'm spy, but not just any spy. I'm a spy of the Sixth Grade, and that's pretty darn impressive.

One more grade will make me a Seven, but that's going to take some time.

I've got to learn to drive first.

And find a genius to make me all sorts of inventions.

And get a jet pack.

Yup, it's going to take some time, but I can wait.

I just have to be careful not to blow my cover because there's evil here on Beech, and wouldn't evil just love to get its claws on a spy?