There will be no Christmas for our wagon this winter. Our cruel and ignorant "leader," Franklin T. American, has virtually sealed our fate with his ineptitude and absolute power over all decisions affecting the party. We've run out of food and have been surviving by trying to eat rattlesnakes and sand. Cholerita's legs became gangrene and we were forced to amputate them, but in a starvation-induced hysteria accidentally amputated her head. Recovery seems unlikely at this stage. Syphiliston and I have begun conducting secretive meetings behind the wagon whenever Franklin sleeps - which he has been doing without interruption for the past 90 or so days. Syphiliston believes it may be time to enact a mutiny over our foolish captain and do our best to salvage what can be salvaged from this horrific journey into Hell.
December 25th, 1766
We passed a gravestone marked "lol i tried to fored the rivre but i died lol." Rest in peace, "LOL," whereever you are.
December 27, 1766
Franklin awoke today and sent the wagon marching forward at a grueling pace. The loss of all oxen and wheels have slowed our journey significantly however. A team of rattlesnakes and cacti have been roped to the wagon in hopes that they will tow our party to the pearly gates of Oregon. Syphiliston is skeptical.
December 29th, 1766Little forward progress has been made. I fear we will never reach the bountiful land of Oregon at this rate. Syphiliston has frozen to death as well. Only Franklin and I remain, and he has stated on several occasions that he plans to eat my brain as I slumber in hopes of gaining my knowledge. My faith in Franklin is near broken.
January 1st, 1767
It is a new day and a new year! Hope springs eternal in this new world, and I have a fresh view on my situation. Sadly, Franklin broke both of my legs in my sleep last night and is now cowering in the corner of the wagon, laughing maniacally and flinging his own feces at his box of bullets. I have ignored this ominous sign and remain cheery and hopeful of better times to come.
January 2nd, 1767
I attempted to declare mutiny on Franklin today after he removed my two front teeth with the butt of his rifle. He merely laughed and pointed for the better part of thirty minutes. Perhaps he did not hear me, as there was a significant amount of blood pouring from my mouth. I shall try again tomorrow once the bleeding subsides.
January 3rd, 1767
I wrested control of the wagon today from the cruel, oppressive Franklin! He stole the $5 ferry and paddled away into the sunset. I fear the end may be near for me, as he took the remaining food with him. And by "remaining food," I mean my legs, which I had planned on eating, but which Franklin had stolen in the night. I have written my final will and testament with the blood that is still flowing from my mouth. I nearly forgot I was a hemophiliac! How silly of me! Here is what I have requested to be written upon my gravestone:
"Man Who Wore Pink Robe When Feeling Better - Greenback Hopeful"
God bless Oregon.
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