Ah, summer. My least favourite season. Gingery-blonde hair and pale, sensitive skin see me slathered in suncream and hiding in the shade for the sole week of sun we have here in the UK each year. If it wasn't for the copious quantities of ice cream, I'd opt out of the season altogether and double up on winter instead. Snow, woolly jumpers and hot chocolate by a coal fire are much more my style. Still, beggars can't be choosers - or as they say in Germany, 'in times of need, even the devil eats flies'. I've been practising for next week's Gamescom, by the way.
Talking of the devil, Naomi the cow seems to also be feeling the heat - only yesterday was she complaining about having to put on her suncream. Little does she know, I've been covering myself in the stuff since April, although I wonder if baby blue burns faster than vampiric white? She also had the gall to tell me that I "won't need to find a costume for Halloween this year". Humph. Neither will she if she keeps insulting me like that. Perhaps I need to 'remind' her whose in charge around here. At least I don't look like a bull in drag.
Poor old Curt hasn't been so lucky though - the heat seems to have fried his brain, and now he thinks he's a cat... He's taken to finishing every sentence with a 'me meow', and I don't have the heart to tell him he's actually a bear. Hopefully it's just a phase he's going through and he'll be feline fine soon, otherwise we might have to call in that quack Dr. Shrunk. And good old camo crocodile Sly is so pleased I've returned to Hell, he decided to have a manly cry. We feel you bro, we feel you.
I can only blame myself, I suppose. I'm not too good at this whole 'come back every day' malarkey. I tend to forget, have other things to play to review (it's a hard life) or simply get distracted by something newer and shinier on our 3DS, in this case Pokemon Art Academy and Tomodachi Life. I also kind of resent the thankless town of animals who relentlessly nag me for a new bench, statue or whatever but refuse to contribute any of their own Bells to the projects once they're given the go ahead. They've been crowding Hell's single bridge for months now, bumping into each other and getting all gloomy about being pushed around - yet will anyone add to the fund to erect a new one? No. And don't get me started on those pointless 'can you deliver x to y because I'm an idle so-and-so' jobs...
The old adage that 'absence makes the heart grow fonder' certainly seems to be true in Hell - I've had more passes made in the past few days than I usually get on a single bus ride to Halesowen (bonus Bells for anyone who knows where that is!). First, O'Hare tells me I'm prettier than the fireworks, then creepy frog-toise Kapp'n assures me I got cuter on the trip back from the tropical island. Seemingly, everyone in Hell wants a piece of their sexy, sexy mayor. Must be the pirate hat. It seemed to work for Jack Sparrow, anyway.
There I was, minding our own business and doing serious mayorly things (shaking trees if you must know), when O'Hare pulled an Xzibit on us. Finding a paper bag abandoned in the middle of town, and being the responsible citizen I am, I searched far and wide for its owner. Turns out it belonged to O'Hare, who proceeded to tell me its a paper bag with more paper bags inside - a Russian doll of "max bagginess". He put a bag in a bag so he can bag while he bags, the troll rabbit. At least I got a zipper shirt for my trouble, I suppose. Which I promptly sold to Re-Tail, seeing as black makes me look even paler than usual. Looking back, perhaps I should have stashed it away for Halloween. I'd make a good vampire - kind of like a female Lestat, but without all the egotistically stupid stunts.
On a more serious note, we have a short Public Service Announcement to finish this diary. On behalf of the town of Hell, we ask that whoever has information on the nefarious pitfall seed planter to come forward, and help us catch the crook. It's not only a health and safety risk, but it's also embarrassing for whomever gets stuck to their waist in the ground, left to hopelessly wiggle their way out. We'd like to remind residents that pitfall seeds are controlled substances, and should not be bought without the appropriate permit. Anyone found in possession of said seeds will face a fine, and we'll send Tom Nook round to collect it - and you know how seriously he takes his money.