Dear Isabeau,

Summary: TDI is over, but some things remain unsolved. As he tried to get his life back to normality, she wants everything but. However, it isn't until the letters appear that they take a closer look at what they truly want.

This will take place about three months after TDI, but TDA never happened. And neither did TDWT, because if you're too dense to see it, that hasn't even aired yet. Several of the campers will be mentioned, but it mostly centers around two of the campers. If you can't figure out which two, you might need your eyes checked.

Ratings: It honestly varies. It's mostly T stuff, cussing, but every now and then, it changes to M or to K. I'm putting T, because the M stuff isn't really that bad.

Disclaimer: I = not owning TDI/TDA/TDWT. So get over it.

Let it begin! Or, you know, whatever.

(Hello.) (For.) Dear Isabeau,

You probably don't remember me, but I remember you, eh. I suppose that if you do remember me, it will be a memory of the homeschooled sexist boy. (I don't want you to think that.) But I've changed, really. I understand that I was wrong, and I understand that you might not forgive me. But I'd like to change that, eh. I've suffered from my (consakqences) consequences more than you actually realize. I know this won't be easy, but I truly hope you can. Please write back, eh, if you can. I'd really like that. I honestly hope we can be friends. (If not more.)

From the highest point in my heart, (or is the term 'depth'?)

Ezekiel, eh

After Script: Is it okay by you if I call you Izzy or Beau or, what was it, Kaleidoscope?

The homeschooled boy quickly looked over his letter.

'It ee'nt much, eh, but, it'll have to do. I just hope she can forgive me. I knoo I've caused a'loot of trooble, but I hope I can fix it.'

You could say he was a hopeful person.

The homeschool quietly opened the battered screen door and slipped out into the brisk morning air. Silent as ever, he slowly slinked up the mail box, which lay half hidden by the tangled mess of trees and undergrowth, and deposited his letter, closing the old-fashioned red box without a sound, preferring to keep the early morning as peaceful and silent as it was during the calming night, and then quickly started to make his way back to his little cottage, a small, cozy building with wooden shutters and smoke-colored shingles that lay a mile or so from the edge of the town. He always liked to send letters before the mailman came, because she was more of a mail girl. Ezekiel didn't get along too well with girls. However, the mail-girl loved to talk to Ezekiel, but not in the friendly way.

"Who are you mailing your letter to? Your girlfriend? Oh, that's right! You don't have one, because the great and mighty boy thinks he can do anything and everything without a girl helping him."

Slightly lowering his head, the unfortunate boy turned around, filled with misgivings that because he failed to avoid Olivia, his day was going to turn out as rotten as an apple left out in the sweltering heat of the summer. He was used to the constant barbs coming from strangers and non-strangers alike, but Olivia had not only delivered and shipped Ezekiel and his family's mail for over two years, but she had also comforted him when he was at the rock bottom of his life. Seeing her pretty gray, almost silver, eyes narrowed in dislike every time she glanced at him, seeing the way her olive-colored arms quivered in hatred every time she handed him the mail, made Ezekiel want to curl up in a ball and wish that 'the rude ho'ost, Chris McClean, was never even bo'orn'. Ezekiel managed to survive the death glare by remembering that there still might be hope left. After all, even after the Total Drama Incident, Olivia still comforted Ezekiel that one night he came home, crying and drenched in hot pink die. It was this one hour of soft words and open hearts that helped Ezekiel realize that his post-TDI life might be bearable. However, it's hard to expect what his day will bring. She's rude, then caring, then mean, then understanding. It's enough to drive anyone crazy. It was only a couple days ago, but…

It was a dark and stormy night. A classic start to any fairytale, but Ezekiel felt like his fairytale was more of a nightmare. One where the evil monster wasn't a green and blue blob of slime, but tan and blonde and had ice-blue eyes that could pierce even the toughest of armor. And wasn't even evil.

"So, finally out of our hidey-hole, are we? Finding reality to your liking? Or is it more of a slap in the face? What is it like, abandoning your friends?" The voice was filled with cold fury and betrayal, which stood out against the sniggers coming from behind like an ice-cube in the middle of an oven. But however much Ezekiel hoped the ice cube would melt, it seemed nearly indestructible.

That would be the monster herself, along with her group of clones. The clones weren't what Ezekiel feared, they were just mere copies of the real thing.

Judging from the eyes that quickly glanced over to the odd sight then just as quickly looked away, like 'don't mind me, I'm not staring,' Ezekiel figured that someone like Whitney, the pretty girl filled with hurt, towering over a small, strange boy, like himself, was a strange sight.

At least, that's what Ezekiel thought, but he couldn't be sure, as he wasn't as good at reading body language as most people. That's the reason, if truth be told, that Ezekiel was in the mess in the first place. But how was he supposed to know not to comment about a girl playing football, or worse, her hair, especially after he's been missing for several months because of the Incident? But he wasn't prepared to see Whitney. Something stirred in him, a mix of terror, betrayal, and some other feeling that he couldn't quite name.

"Are you going to make another comment about how girls aren't strong enough to play football, Mr. Tough?" the barely whispered words somehow seemed louder than the chorus of mocking giggles.

"But, eh, don't only guys play football? Whitney is that…is that you?" Had Whitney, the not-quite-evil monster herself, actually noticed Ezekiel through her heavily eye-shadowed eyes, she would have noticed the look of confusion on his face. But all she was seeing was a guy saying that girls couldn't play football. And to add insult to injury, he made some snide comment about her hair. Then he didn't even recognize her.

"No, 'eh', to your first question, and hell yeah to your second. How could you not recognize me?" Whitney sneered, her voice still hardly more than a breathe, yet still reached nearly everybody's ears. "I know several girls that play football, and they could all beat you so badly, there'd be nothing left but a speck of dust. Speaking of dusty, you have no right complain about my hair when yours looks as if it hasn't been washed in weeks." Just on cue, Whitney's clones started laughing quite loudly, attracting even more attention. The way Whitney stated the words without a touch of hesitation or even almost rudeness almost convinced Ezekiel that she was actually right. Almost.

"But ho'ot pink ain't a natural coo'lor, is it?" Ezekiel asked, while silently thinking to himself, 'Maybe, eh, if I go'ot up insto'od of cowering on the floor, it woon't look so weird.'

Whitney sensed his struggle to stand up, and instead put her foot down on top of his chest, getting an "Oomph!" from Ezekiel.

"No no, Mr. Boy. If you want to get up, you'll have to fight for it. Shouldn't be too hard because you're a guy!" Whitney rolled her eyes, adding in a slightly louder voice, "Besides, hot pink is not a natural color, but that doesn't matter. I dyed my hair that color, and it looks so much better that your brown mess that you call hair."

Ezekiel knew he was not going to be able to stand up, mainly because he was taught that he couldn't harm a girl, but also because his parents did not teach Physical Education at his homeschool.

"Please, eh, Whitney, I didn't mean to insult you like that! It was an accido'ont! So, um, could you please get off me, eh?"Ezekiel had asked.

"Well, your "accido'ont" totally was uncalled for-" one of the clones had started to speak before being silenced by a glance from Whitney.

"Why of course, Ezekiel!" Whitney answered in a tone like acid honey. Ezekiel, however, being as uneducated in teens as a rock, didn't notice the change in her voice.

"Oh, really? Thanks, eh, Whitney! I guess your hair isn't that bad," Ezekiel chattered happily as he stood up and dusted himself off, glad to be standing up even though it made the difference in height even more noticeable.

"Glad you like it, Mr. Sexist, because you're about to have it yourself," snarled Whitney, as she pulled out her bottle of hair dye. Before Ezekiel could jerk back, she had emptied what was left of the bottle onto Ezekiel's head, earning gasps and quiet mutters from the gathering audience.

Even Ezekiel could tell that this wasn't one of the best times to be standing in the middle of the mall in public drenched in pink dye, which was slowly seeping down into the roots of his hair. People weren't even bothering to hide their laughter and giggles. Ezekiel felt his face turn a bright shade of red, similar to the shade of ripe strawberries, and he assumed that his face went well with the hot pink slowly drip, drip, dripping down his hair.

"Why, Ezekiel, why, that after years of never letting us even catch a glance of you, you suddenly grace us with your appearance?" Whitney's face appeared inches from Ezekiel. Although the hot pink homeschooled could almost feel the fury radiating from her, but in her eyes, Ezekiel could see the curiosity, the questioning gaze that held his, along with one glimmer of one emotion Ezekiel couldn't understand. "Why, Ezekiel?"

"I…" Ezekiel tried to defend himself, but it's hard to defend yourself if even you don't know the answer.

"I've wanted to know the answer for a while. I would stay awake, staring at my ceiling, thinking to myself, 'What could have happened? He used to come around almost once a day, so nice and helpful. What happened to him? Where is he, and how has he changed?' Those questions nearly drove me insane," Whitney's voice was once again barely above a whisper, like a faint winter wind slowly blowing through Ezekiel's ears. "I always hoped I could see you again, hoped that we could go back to the way things were. Reality, as always, fell short of my hopes. You look the same, sound the same, but I knew something changed. It shown through your eyes, the change. I didn't, however, expect it to be so simple yet so un-you. You're cold, uncaring, didn't even recognize me. The first thing you said to me, you best friend forever that you haven't seen in forever, was an insult about my hair. The second thing you said to me was an insult about me being a girl. You disappoint me Ezekiel. Why?"

All while Whitney was whispering words into Ezekiel's ear, the crowd started to drift away. A girl dumping a can of dye on a boy, then whispering in a voice laced with pain: Been there, seen that. Soon, it was only Ezekiel and Whitney, and her clones of course, filling the empty space. All while Whitney was whispering words into Ezekiel's ear, he was looking anywhere but her blue eyes, knowing that he would drown in their ocean of despair. He studied the small fountain he was pushed up against, the many stores that lined the wall of the mall, all advertising shoes or food or electronics. He examined the high roof strung with ribbons of every shade and color of the rainbow: from the brightest reds to the darkest blues to the palest greens to the deepest purples. It was mesmerizing to watch the ribbons gently waver in the air conditioning-produced wind. But at Whitney's last word, Ezekiel couldn't help but glance into her eyes, giant pools of icy water than Ezekiel was being sucked into like a whirlwind.

Whitney started talking again. "I know that things haven't been the best between us, that you would occasionally make a sexist comment, but you were learning. I blamed it on your homeschool. But suddenly you come back and everything I liked about you was nearly gone and everything I hated about you was expanded tenfold. What happened?"

"There was this Incido'nt," Ezekiel managed to stammer out. Whitney's eyes were like Ezekiel's portal to her feelings: a glimmer of hope for the future, a streak of sadness for what they had lost, a hint of fury for what he did to her, all shadowed by the dark suspicion that he was lying to her, that him coming back was too good to be true.

"What incident?"

"First, eh, it was an Incido'nt, capitol 'i'. Second, I'm surprised you haven't heard of it yet. It was all over natio'onal television, wasn't it? And, uhm, I'd rather not explain with them here, if they don't already know. If that's okay, eh…?" Ezekiel's voice faded off into nothingness.

Whitney looked back at her clones, er, friends. "Go, I'll be fine. Janice, take good care of Kaitlyn and Sarah, won't you." It was more of a command than a question. They all nodded, shrugged, put on their best disappointed-nonchalant faces, and walked away, already conversing about silly girl stuff, like clothes, shoes, and makeup. Everything was already out of sight, out of mind.

"I…We…They're gone. And you have a lot of explaining to do."

Ezekiel took a deep breath. "Whitney, promise me that no matter what I tell you, you won't repeat it to anybody who doesn't already know. And that you won't judge me, that you'll still be my friend, my only friend, my best friend."

Whitney nodded, and then added, "You keep saying 'doesn't already know' like everyone should know. Did you murder someone?"

Ezekiel shook his head.

"Multiple someones?" Whitney started looking nervous about her decision to send away her clones.

"I don't kill anybody."

"Then what? God damn it, tell me Ezekiel! What caused you to change so completely?"

Ezekiel looked away from her blue eyes, not wanting to see the hatred, distrust, and pain that would soon surely be there.

"Have you been watching television recently? Like within the past mo'nth?"

"Ezekiel," Whitney sighed, "what does this have to do with anything?"

"It has everything to do with it."

She sighed. "Everyone's been watching television, but as you know, we only get – what – five channels? We were expecting to get this new channel that would air this one reality show, called Complete Dramatic Island, or something, but we never got it."

Ezekiel sighed in relief, and then cringed at the mention of 'Complete Dramatic Island'.

Whitney noticed his behavior, and raised her eyebrows in curiosity.

Ezekiel sighed again, this time in desperation. "The show's called Total Drama Island."

"You know of it! That is so cool! What's it about?"

"It's a competition, where 22 teenage contestants compete to win $1 million dollars. Every three days there would be a challenge, where the two teams of 11 contestants each would battle against each other. The winning team got rewards, while the losing team had to vote off a contestant. Each contestant on the losing team would cast their vote on who they want to leave, and the contestant with the most amount of votes would be voted off. Eventually the teams were disbanded, but alliances were formed. Lies were told, hearts broken, humiliation caused, all in the hopes of being the victor.

"It took place on Camp Wawanakwa, with only 24 people on the island, along with some unpaid interns: The contestants, the chef named Chef, and the host…Chris McClean."

Whitney gasped. "I can't believe I missed all of that! I…But what does that have to do with your Incident? How do you know so much about the show that didn't even air here?"

Ezekiel laughed a cold humorless laugh. "Whitney, Total Drama Island has everything to do with my Incido'nt."

Whitney looked even more confused. "Ezekiel, stop screwing with my head!"

There was a moment of silence where Whitney stared at Ezekiel, waiting for an answer, while Ezekiel kept staring away from her eyes. She finally whispered, less serious and more to herself than Ezekiel, "Boy, what I wouldn't get to meet one of the contestants…To actually get an autograph. Speaking of contestants, Ezekiel, who were they?"

"There was a large boy named Owen, a surfer girl named Bridgette, a party boy named Geoff, a nature-loving boy named DJ, a perfect student CIT girl named Courtney, a criminal boy named Duncan, a bossy girl named Heather, a loud and proud girl named Leshawna, a nerd named Harold, a blonde named Lindsay, a book-nerd named Noah, a jock named Tyler, a female body builder named Eva, these best female friends for life Katie and Sadie, the eye candy Justin, the farm girl Beth, the Goth Gwen, the musician Trent, the techno-geek Cody, and…Iz...Izzy-Isabeau." Ezekiel stuttered over the last one.

Whitney noticed his stuttering and narrowed her eyes, "What's special about this Isabeau girl, huh? Hmm, well, I guess she is a celebrity. I can't hope to compete with that, yet anyway." Whitney then looked pointedly at Ezekiel, hoping he'd get the hint, but the clue just went flying over his head.

"You woon't have to compete with her because Total Drama Island is already over. So there isn't a challenge to compete against, because the money was already won."

"Ezekiel," Whitney sighed, "sometimes you are incredibly clueless."

"I know! I'm soo'ry about what I've said, okay?" Ezekiel shouted and threw his hands up.

"What are you talking about?"

Ezekiel growled in frustration, pulled out a pen and post-it note, scribbled his name on it, and stuck it to her forehead.

"Happy now? Now you have an autograph from one of the contestants."

"Holy crap, YOU competed in Total Drama Island? My best friend is a famous celebrity!"

Ezekiel's voice turned emotionless, just a dull, blank voice. "Infamous is more like it. I managed to insult half of the population in the first challenge. But I jumped, unlike some other people who should have been the first one on the boat."

"Ezekiel, what are you talking about?" Whitney asked again, more softly and sadly.

Ezekiel suddenly was aware of the fact that they were the only ones left in the mall. As if on cue, an announcement echoed around the mall:

"ATTENTION SHOPPERS. THE MALL WILL BE CLOSING IN 5 MINUTES. PLEASE MAKE YOU'RE WAY TO THE NEAREST EXIT, OR SEE AN ASSISTANT IF YOU NEED MORE TIME OR HELP. THANK YOU FOR SHOPPING AT YOUR LOCAL BLUE CREEK MALL TODAY."

"Ezekiel, hurry. We don't have enough time."

Ezekiel gestured towards the nearby exit door and they started walking towards it.

"I was on Total Drama Island. The first challenge was to jump off a cliff. I did, but two other people didn't. Then I completely lost my mind, said something about how we would have won if we had more guys on our team than girls and about how guys were stronger than girls, and next thing I know, I'm the first one on the Dock of Shame, boarding the Boat of Losers, and never returning."

They had reached the exit door, the bell tinkling as the door shut behind them.

Whitney was speechless. She asked in an emotionless voice, "So where does this Isabeau girl come in?"

"I was on the Killer Bass team and she was on the Screaming Gophers team, but I couldn't help at marvel at how independent, wild, and unique she was. Even at Playa de Losers, the place where voted off people go, I still watched the episodes, still watched her. But I never had a chance, especially with my sexist comments, to even talk to her. We could have been friends, maybe."

Whitney's eyes filled with tears.

"What about me? Didn't you remember the friend you left behind, without even telling her where you were going? Or were you too caught up in the fact that you'll be famous and possibly rich to remember to even send a single letter back to your best friend back home? I bet when you met Isabeau, all thought of me and us completely left your head."

"Whitney, why are you crying? What's –"

"Don't pretend, Ezekiel, that you care about me. You deserve every punishment for opening your mouth. Go and forget about me again; go and be with Isabeau like you want to."

Whitney sniffled. "I should have known that you'd only break my heart."

And with that, she ran off down the street. A lightning strike flashed across the sky, and when Ezekiel's eyes finally cleared, Whitney was gone. It started pouring, leaving the poor boy drenched in rain, pain, and pink dye.

He wandered around the town, subconsciously heading for his house. Ezekiel was acting weird to anyone who happened to be peering out their window and distinguish the lone boy from the dreary rain. He would take several blocks in one direction, then just stop and turn another direction and go for several blocks, taking the roundabout path towards one direction.

"Hey! Boy!"

Apparently, someone could distinguish the short, brown-pink haired boy from the downpour of rain, as he emerged from his house, a stereotypical white stone, black shingle cottage that's rather on the small size.

"Yes, sir?"

"Are you homeless? Why are you wondering on my lawn? Is that pink…What is that in your hair?"

Most adults treated Ezekiel like that, probably because he was short enough to be 14 not 16. The pink sticky liquid that was slowly seeping down Ezekiel's neck didn't help the poor boy blend in.

"No. I'm not. Pink dye." Ezekiel answered, his voice loud enough to be heard over the rain, which didn't appear to be letting up anytime soon.

"Oh," the stranger muttered, and then stepped back into his house, not wanting to get wet or get stuck in Ezekiel's troubled world.

When Ezekiel arrived at the wondering drive way, the dirt road turning quickly into mud, he realized he didn't want to go back home, to his parents. His mother would glare at him with disappointment and frustration, while his father would nod his head in agreement, which wasn't strange, considering the fact that he was the one who told Ezekiel the lies about guys being superior to girls.

So Ezekiel sat on the curb, next to his mailbox, like he used to do at 3 o'clock every day, waiting for Olivia to show up. His hair was wet with rain and sticky with pink dye, which was already leaving his brown hair, dripping down his neck, and seeping into the ground and his clothes. Not a comfortable experience.

"Ezekiel? Oh, my god, is that pink dye? What happened?"

Ezekiel looked up and spied Olivia, of all people standing above him, with a concerned look on her face.

"Why," his muttered, "do you care?"

Olivia sat down next to Ezekiel on the curb.

"I do; what happened?"

"I saw Whitney for the first time since Total Drama Island, and she was mad. Not because of what I'd said; the show didn't even air down here, so she had no idea I was even on the show. She was mad because I was gone for months, and she had no clue where I was."

"But, what with the dye? And are you sure that's the only reason she's mad at you?"

"She got mad when I said something about her pink hair, so she dumped the rest of the bottle on me. And what you do mean?"

"Ezekiel, Ezekiel, you are so blind. I'm not going to spell it out for you."

"But, why do you care?" Ezekiel whispered.

Olivia sat down next to Ezekiel and put her arm around Ezekiel, but in a comforting friend sort of way. At least, that's what Ezekiel hoped it was.

"Ezekiel, even though you screwed up majorly, people will eventually forgive you. But Whitney has a different reason to be mad at you. I'm beginning to understand that it wasn't even your fault, that your dad, Mr. Martin, told you the, er, incorrect information about reality."

"I know, but he approves of what I said, and that annoys me. Mother, however, is furious at me… But why else would Whitney be mad at me?"

"Ezekiel," Olivia explained in a voice similar to a preschool teacher explaining that one plus one equals two, "what exactly did she say?"

"Umm… 'I bet when you met Isabeau, all thought of me and us completely left your head'."

"Exactly! You couldn't have picked a better sentence to prove my point!" Olivia exclaimed.

"What about 'I should have known that you'd only break my heart'?

"Even better. Or should I say worse? But, Ezekiel, think about it."

"Whitney likes me?"

"Can't say I blame her." Olivia laughed.

"Why?" Ezekiel wanted to know.

"Ezekiel, I can't say why she likes you, only why I do. Think about what I've told you, Ezekiel. It's time for me to get on with my route."

Olivia got up and walked away, leaving Ezekiel even more confused than ever.

Back in the present, Olivia was staring at Ezekiel. It was obvious they were both thinking of the same night, because she said, "Forget I just said that. People will forgive you. Just give them a couple years, Mr. Sexist."

"That's a letter to a… an acquaintance," was all Ezekiel responded with.

"Somebody I know?"

"Not personally."

"A girl or a boy?"

"I'm not telling."

"Or, I guess, a Trans?"

"Trans?"

"Uh, hello Ezekiel, transvestite?"

"Trans-what?"

"It's a cross-dresser, or someone who gets their sexuality changed."

"Uh…What?"

Olivia laughed. "Don't worry aboo't it, Ezekiel."

"What do you want?"

Olivia suddenly got silent. Finally she said in an emotionless voice, "I have a package to Mr. Ezekiel Martin. I'll be sure to deliver your letter. Good bye."

Ezekiel accepted the package, and watched bewildered as she stormed off.

Shrugging, he walked back to his house, quietly opened and shut the door, and snuck up to his room. He stared at the package, which was about the size of a CD, and had no return address. He opened it and gasped. It was a DVD of the Total Drama Island Special, including not only all of the episodes, but behind-the -scenes looks of campers caught on camera. He paled, already telling this wouldn't turn out good.

He slowly put the DVD in the new DVD player his parents got to go with the television so they could watch him on Total Drama Island. Apparently, someone had edited the DVD because it only showed scenes with Ezekiel and Isabeau in it together. And the same someone had circled with a red marker Ezekiel's face, every time he looked at Isabeau. It was sickening, how much time it must have taken to go through all 28 episodes and find the parts that supported the fact that Ezekiel admired Isabeau more than he should have. It would have taken several days…

Whitney. The last Ezekiel saw of her was several days ago, when she disappeared in the flash of lightning. She seemed so upset about Isabeau; this couldn't possibly be a coincident…

It seemed to Ezekiel that just when his life might be getting back on track, it was about to be completely thrown off. Ezekiel sat down again and waited for Isabeau's reply.

ATTENTION: THIS STORY WAS PREVIOUSLY CALLED Dear Isabella, BUT I REALIZED A FEW THINGS. FIRST OFF, ISABELLA IS THAT TWILIGHT PERSON AND THIS IS NOT A TWILIGHT FANFIC. SECOND, SO MANY PEOPLE HAVE NAMED IZZY ISABELLA, AND I WANTED SOMETHING DIFFERENT. SO I CHANGED IT TO Dear Isabeau, BUT THIS IS THE SAME STORY.

So how was it? Like it? Hate it? I crave your opinion. Flames are welcome-ish, but only if it's helpful. Please don't criticize every little detail.

Also, it could be slow going, getting the chapters out, because I want my chapters to be around 5,000+ words long, not those 350 word 'chapters', and I'm having some boy trouble, and my friends recently dumped me. So suck it up and wait.

Speaking of waiting, I'll always post at the bottom of the chapter the name of an author/story that you should check out.

And now a short word from my sponsors:

*INTRODUCING NEW BRIGHT-NIGHT-LIGHT LAMPS*

Courtney: Hey, Izzy…

Izzy: Yes, Courtney?

Courtney: Is your room always dark at night?

Izzy: Um, Courtney? When night comes, everywhere is dark.

Courtney: What she meant to say was, "Of course it's dark, and I hate the dark."

Izzy: But I love the dark! My Uncle Bonjour once connected a light bulb to an orange in the middle of the night, and he was so bright that people could see him from miles around!

Courtney: Iz-zy! Follow the script!

Izzy: But the script is boring!

Courtney: Come on! If we don't read the script, we won't get paid!

Izzy: Actually, Courts, we get paid just for being on this advertisement, not for following the script.

Courtney: Really?

Izzy: Yep, as long as we advertise it in some way, we get paid.

Courtney: Nice. So all of you people reading Dear Isabeau, or just skipping to the end, you cheaters, go and buy a Night-Sight-Light Lamp thing today!

Izzy: It's Bright-Night-Light Lamp.

Courtney: I don't care.

(Courtney walks off the stage.)

Izzy: Ooo! That looks like fun!

(Izzy walks towards the edge of the stage, but accidentally falls off. She giggles.)

*YOU HEARD IT! GO AND BUY A BRIGHT-NIGHT-LIGHT LAMP TODAY!*

So uhm, yeah. Go and buy a lamp thing.

Remember the three R's…

Read – my story

Review – my story

Recommend – your story or another story or yourself or another author to be posted at the bottom of my chapters

See you soon, or not.

TTYL, TTFN, & l8r g8r!

God, I hate that. Anyway, l8rs.

-cometsgirl-