This is the beginning of my diary. I never did one before but Miss Waller says it would be good so I am starting one. I forgot to write the day, which Miss Waller says I should do every time I write. So. This is Wednesday.
I think I will start by writing about me and also my bike. Just about everybody knows me and my bike. My bike is a Schwinn Cruiser 7 Deluxe, with green and white on the tank and Typhoon Cruiser tires. Mister Bivens at the Gulp ‘n Go said when I first had it that he had one just like it when he was a kid. He almost said when he was my age, but he knows I am not a kid. Everybody, including me, knows that I am twenty four years old, even if I am not like other people who are twenty four years old. Miss Waller says -
Wait, I should tell who Miss Waller is. She is down at the social services in Climford, which is the nearest big town and where there is a movie theater that shows the Harry Potter movies when they come out. I have to see Miss Waller two times every week. I go on Mondays and on Thursdays. Miss Waller says I am developmentally challenged, which is a nice way to say what kids used to call me, which was retard. But I know how to do lots of things other people can do. I can make change and play computer games and hang a picture on the wall and use the washing machine and the dryer and give people directions and say a lot of the talking parts in Harry Potter And The Chamber of Secrets, which is my favorite movie, and basilisk is my favorite word. And I can read and write pretty good. Duh! I guess I don’t have to say that because I’m writing this!
This is the longest thing I ever wrote.
Sunday
I rode my bike today just like always even though it is raining out. I have a red raincoat that is made of something like rubber and I have green rubber boots so I don’t get too wet. My mother bought them for me because she knows how much I like to ride my bike, but I also think she did it because she can have some of her drinks while I am out and she thinks I don’t know. That is why she is usually asleep when I come home from riding my bike, which is OK except for the time her cigarette burned a hole in her housecoat and almost set her on fire.