The following is a work of fiction.

Not Nick Nolte's Diary, Malibu, California
July 13, 2005


Yesterday the day seemed to drag on and on, like a distant relative's phone conversation. It droned on so long I thought perhaps the sun would not set. I've not been to the arctic circle in many years and if my lawyers got their way I wouldn't admit even that in writing. Suffice it to say that Norway has its own definition of open container. Whatever the continent, I've understood the twist top to leave some room for interpretation. Also like a phone conversation, there was a slight buzz in the air. It was muggy and misty, a rare thing indeed in the 'Bu. Constance was out at the movies and Manolo had a gig in Silver Lake. I passed the time testing batteries around the house. Have you noticed, Diary, how few nine volt batteries things use anymore? Well, once the sun finally set I played the flashlights on Derek's house. No one seem disturbed.

[signed] Nick

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