It Smells Like New Rain

Dear Malcolm's Diary,

Father bought you for me today. He says you are for recording military strategies and notes on political policy. I, however, see you as someone to whom I can unfold the secrets of my tender heart.

I don't believe DonalBORING got a diary as well. I haven't seen hide nor hair of him in a good while. Last I heard he left with two chappy-looking ladies and a tall slim man. Father says NEVER kiss a chappy woman. That leads to dry-mouth. Seeing as how I regularly apply moistening chap stick to my lips, I am certainly not willing to take such a risk.

One never knows when the right moment might present itself. The right moment with the right lady who wouldn't mind being kissed by Prince Malcolm.

Well...not Prince YET I suppose. Father promises soon. Not soon enough, for I am sure that it's the "Prince" part that the ladies like best.

I dreamed about Lady McD again last night. I wonder if she is at all interested in my collection of etchings?

Yours,

Malcolm