...Training my ‘brother’ to be my transportation turned out to be way more difficult and annoying than I initially planned. After all Alarm Clock came with similar functions as the metal boxes of yore depicted, oh so vividly in the Memory web.

It has a honker/inbuilt stereo system (too bad I can’t make it stop or turn down the volume) and wheel/reins (hair). Yes, my transportation unit is one of the best this world has to offer, but this machine has 2 glaring flaws that can’t be ignored: it didn’t come with an instruction manual and it can’t seem to stay parked!

Eh… I shouldn’t complain though… After all it does it’s job, even the stereo does if you point at a book, it reads it to you. So you win some and you lose an indefinite amount of many things such as awkward silence with your… Memory web that makes no sense ‘babysitters’ are where a baby sits also known as a ‘stroller’, ‘caretaker’ is more accurate as in those whom take care of you.

Ops… I forgot that it goes on autopilot at times, oh well where shall you drag- take me today?

Plum Tree vs Alarm Clo- Wait! Not with me on your back! Stop! Stop! Brake!

*Alarm slide to a stop in front of the tree.*

Thankfully, you stopped before I yanked out all your nice chocolate brown hair. Wait why are we here any-

*A wild chicken- head and broken cassette appeared!*

Alarm Clock talks excitedly with them. Chicken head sounds as he looks, which is sadly more of a complement when compared with the Broken cassette who’s voice that sounds like the static from an old ‘TV’.

... I should have known what would be friends with an Alarm clock? Other than a Rooster and a Buzzer?

I feel a great sorrow wash over me, it took me 3 months to even remotely train you brother. *sigh* Fuu, and now I have to restrain the urge to slam my fist onto your head, and I can’t just ‘go to sleep’ because of your unending chorus of despair! At least it sounds like ‘despair’ to me you can’t: sleep through it, concentrate on anything, or stop it! What else could it be but despair?!

Both the book you left in your bag and the scenery is useless with your clatter! Shut it! I grumble under my breath.

Once they start running around and playing they are much quieter and I can start reading what I can of the book. A stain pen (highlighter equivalent) in hand I get to work, whenever there’s a word I can’t guess from context clues I stain with the stain pen so I can come back to it later! So convenient!

A low barks, not loud yet not quiet, reverberate through the air surely foreboding danger.

I tense up as I veer my head around but no one was there, everyone else had left in a hurry, abandoning me to fend for myself.

I’m only six months old! I can barely sit upright! Now you people expect me to crawl away fast enough to escape a bloodthirsty monster! Throw me a bone her-!

*Bark*

Never mind! Don’t throw me a bone, and don’t bring one here! Though I’m curious about why it’s so familiar I DO NOT want to risk my head over it!

Once I’m done contemplating my life, I look up to be meet with a snarling beast bounding towards me at an alarming rate. In a fit of fear and panic I subconsciously break the rules of what a child is physically capable of doing at six months, and scramble up the tree leaving both the feral beast and my book behind.

The beast tries to scratch at the tree in attempts to gain enough purchase to climb it. It starts growling in a weird… sing-song manner and it’s nails become hardened with stone.

Desperate to remain out of it’s range I climb higher, and higher until I begin to wonder: How do I get down?

I panicked at first wondering how I’ll survive being stuck in a tree… If I can’t leave it then maybe I would wind-up eating birds raw, fruit, or perhaps even bugs! Then I realised that either I would find a way down or one of the larger human-lumps would.

*sigh* I left my my book behind such a shame… oh well, at least I’m still alive. I bided my time by watching the terrifying beast, investigating way it was so familiar, and thinking.

Memory analysis: a dog, former owner of memories really liked dogs, and kept 2 in his house. ...I don’t get the appeal.

Left to my own mind I search through the memory web and came across a new word: Cannibalism: the act of eating one’s own kind… well isn’t really relev- wait… eating any part of your own kind is cannibalism, and my meals are… milk that is made from/by Tormentor. So does that mean that every time I drank her milk… I was committing cannibalism?

Woah! Dark thoughts there. Uhm… Let’s see what that ducking pooch is up to...

Hey! That’s my book you mucking mutt! Come back! You smelly beast!

The Beast returned with the book and did another hum-growl sing-song which made a small earth pike. I started to panic again but thankfully the pike was to dangerous for the beast to actually stand on. Afterwards it left again still with the book! You know what? Fine you can keep it! Just never come back!

A few minutes after it left, everyone came back. From what I can tell Alarm was being harshly reprimand for leaving me, as he should. Everyone was searching the grounds below likely to find me. Part of me wanted to wait just a bit longer, to punish them a bit for abandoning me like that but I was tired of being stuck in a tree so I called out to them.

It was easy for larger bipedal kind to get into the tree where I was at, all they had to do was climb the earth spike to get in. The hard part for them was undoubtedly prying me off the tree I was clinging to for dear life. Those jerks kept on chuckling and calling me a ‘icko- na- me’, which I can only assume is this world’s equivalent to a cat.

Poopy- I really liked that book...