I have a puppet, dear Diary. Mrs Buttons is her name. She came with me over from Tubor, but then she fell into the ocean and was gone. Grief all around fer sure. Luckily she was restored by late Miss Chance, who made her all the more prettier than she ever was – even has a little puppet of her own now. A little mini-me! Only problem is that all this fanciness has completely gone Mrs Buttons to the head. All snorky and stuck-up she is these days, she …
… Ahem, Mrs Buttons here. Good thing about being a hand-puppet is that one can wrestle the quill from the other hand. Don’t listen to the fool, dear Diary. She knows full well that I am the brains of this outfit, she’s just jealous that she doesn’t have nearly as much style as I do. Plus she smells!
I … what? I don’t smell! Mrs Buttons! Bad puppet! Back to the belt with you!
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