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Diary Day 1:
Well what a lovely day of delivering the parcels to my lovely village townsfolk city people things. I really enjoy my job at the Post Office, sorting through people's private communications and finding out who gets what. Pity about the Sheriff, I enjoyed watching him at night as he had more than just the one rusty badge...
Tonight I enjoyed watching Richard Gaywood through his bedroom window trying out that Swedish Sure Grip Suck Machine I delivered earlier in the day. I took along a punnet of gooseberries to enjoy while gently stroking my shaft. Occasionally a rather tart berry made me wince and jerk a little more vigourously than I anticipated. When I was approaching the vinegar strokes, you wouldn't believe what I saw! Yes, that's right, I saw nothing! Just as I thought I was going to see something super exciting, he drew the curtains! I was blocked from seeing the good stuff!! Amazing. I quickly finished myself off over his daffodils and made my way back to the Post Office. I'll have to think about this one to be sure.
Diary Day 2:
After my unsatisfactory sexual experience of yesterday, I feel I may have took it out on the town too eagerly today. The dirty scum in this village attract and repell me in equal measures. It sure do make my trousers tight, let me tell you. Hur hur. Damn that Grim... and his loud tap dancing in his stupid shoes. I shouldn't let things like that distract me so readily. Not tonight. Certainly not tonight.
I decided to settle my playing mind on what Richard was doing behind those curtains, so once again I trekked to his shack in the centre of town. To ensure success this night I wore my lucky pair of ant antennae. There was nobody about, so I positioned myself 2 inches away from the window pane to get a really really really really good look at him. I gently eased a finger into my anus to start things off and settled down to see what I could see. Dr Gaywood was all on his lonesome, watching some dubious animal porn. The dirty beggar... Well, I treated myself after that and finished off by shoving my bellend deep into a daffodil and filling it with MY seed. Dirty fucking whoreish daffodils with their painted faces. The bitch deserved it.
Diary Day 3:
6:00pm
Argh! The stupid bastards! [tears stain the page at this point] I could almost feel the rope around my neck today. I can't believe they forced my secret out of me. Damn them with their infernal watching eyes, I don't like being watched! That's... my job. Well, I can't go out tonight. They'll be expecting me and that's no fun for either of us. No sir.
9:00pm
I can't take it anymore! My balls are bluer than Pundy's face! I reckon if I pretend to be another townsfolk they won't suspect me and know what's afoot... it's worth a try.
1:00pm
Oooh yes sir! That sure did the trick. I decided to masquerade as Mr Chris in my evening watching. I managed to find my old tiger costume from when I were a nipper, the legs only covered my upper thighs and it rides up something fierce in the crotch, but it done the trick alright. I wore it on the way over to Dudley's house. I was stopped at one point by that nosey old bitch Mrs Hubbard, but I just shouted "Law! Law! Law!" at her until she went away. Cow. Anyway, Dudley's bins were still in disarray from the badger parade of the yesternight, and they stank to high heaven. Carefully dragging my scrotum over the edge of the rusty bin lid prepared me for what was in store. I could only get brief glimpses of what he was up to while I was bouncing up and down outside his bathroom window, but what I did see was that nobody seemed to be following him around. What a lonely soul. Interesting... Well, I finished up stuffing his overflow drain with my meat, orgasming deeply into his pipe. It sure were overflowing after that, let me tell you.
Diary Day 4:
I'm not long for this world. I know this to be true. I was SURE that Sheepeh was the serial killer due to his smelly parcels, I truly was. I've got to make tonight's expedition special. Now this cult thing has subjugated me, I'm interested in the debaucheries that these twisted fucks get up to, so I'll watch my erstwhile leader ComicalGnomes tonight. The filthy grubby thing. Vastly bloated from many Star Bars and not enough running, I bet he has to wash himself with a rag on a stick. Oooh.
I crept over to his ramshackle shack shed when the moon was covered by clouds, I'm sure that would mean I couldn't be watched. I slowly lowered myself headfirst down his stinking chimney, praising my luck that it was summertime. The soot did chafe my bell quite severely while I was rythmically stroking it. I even treated myself by plugging my hogseye with a thumb, I really wish I didn't bite my nails to jagged edges... I lowered myself further down so that my eyes just cleared his mantlepiece, and the sight that assaulted my eyes made me gag and cough. If he heard me shout out "JESUS FUCKING CHRIST! FUCK MY BISCUIT JESUS FUCK CUNTING HELL! I CAN'T BELIEVE WHAT I, DIMRILL THE VOYEUR, IS SEEING WITH MY VOYEUR EYES WHILE WATCHING YOU, COMICALGNOMES, YOU FILTHY FUCKING COCK ARSE JESUS!" he didn't register it. He was too far gone in his own perversions of filth with his pet donkey and no real persons at all to notice. I couldn't finish myself off after that.. I just couldn't. Majestically climbing up the chimney backwards, I made my escape, blue balls intact. I raped a goat on the way home. I'm not proud.
Diary Day 5:
I'm still alive! And that dirty Mr Chris was the killer... if only I could've watched him do those things. A missed opportunity there, I feel. Anyway, I've been ordered by my cultish "friends" to watch ComicalGnomes tonight. After the last session, I simply couldn't get it up. I pissed in his post box instead. I was just about to leave and glanced through the curtains on the off chance something was happening, and lo and behold there was Grim... in with ComicalGnomes, getting up to the naughty! Well. Fuck him, he repulses me.
Diary Day 6:
Sfuckign post! s'my fkcuin psot, bastardf fukcin jrb cunt. s'cold in this dithc. I n-n-n-nneed more fkcin booze. [the account trails off here and the rest of the page is soaked in dribble, implying the writer passed out]