March 24, 1999
Frozen solid. I share a plastic bag with seven others. We live in stacks of four. They're kind of like family, though none of us know anything about family. I'm second from the top. It's completely dark most of the day. Nothing much to see anyway. Things don't change very often around here. But when they do, they change for good. It's best not to get too attached to anyone or anything.
except your immediate neighbors, who you're probably stuck to anyhow.
I'm stuck between two others. Three more are piled next to us. The six of us have it pretty good. our bag is sealed and our community intact. The plastic is thin, like a potato chip bag. But it's enough to keep us moist. Outisde the bag you won't make it long. It's the worst kind of desert out there; a frozen desert. I saw a tomato shrivel up right in front of my eyes. I couldn't loook away. I was mesmerized by the horror. (full disclosure, I have no neck.) Ice cubes get left outside all the time. The funny thing is that the ice doesn't completely evaporate, like you think it would. There's something left over after all the water's gone. I don't know what it is. If your ice dries up your dead. About the only thing that can live outside a plastic bag is a hotdog. They have tough skin, those hot dogs. Even hotdogs dry up someday.
Next to our tent is another tent with six more arranged just like we are. We call ourselves the 12 Pack. Obviously, it's a name by commitee. Loyalties strongest among the stack, then the tent, but there's nothing i wouldn't do for any of these waffles. The 12 Pack Is Intact, as we like to say.
April 12, 1999
There are six of us left. Five in this bag: myself, Sissy, Zaxon, Torbort, and Windshield, in that order. In that order? In what order? Nothing makes sense anymore. The pullout started in the other bag first. There was an order to it at first. They got Girps, he was on top in the first stack, then Spandecks under him, then Baby on the bottom. With the first stack pulled the second stack was out in the open. Jersey and Tobin, the top two waffles on the second stack went together. All us in the second bag figured they'd finish pulling everyone from the first bag before we started getting pulled. Then, just this morning, those wretched hands ripped our bag open and grabbed KleKlop. Losing KleKlop is hard. He was a good waffle. I think of him more as a pastry. As I scribble this, I'm on top of the frontmost stack. I'm totally exposed. I feel like a meat on a tree. That's a saying out there. "like a meat on a tree," they say it all the time. But still, i'm probably not as exposed as poor Phylys. She's the last waffle in the first bag. At least her bag is wrapped tightly around her. Not as good as another waffle, but better than an open bag. I know Phylys. We went through inspection together. Don't have time to write about that. I wonder what Phylys is going through. She keeps to herself usually. She used to talk to KleKlop, but he's gone. We don't talk much but I can tell that if only our circumstances were different, we'd be friends. Our bag is just barely clipped shut. There are wide holes on either end of the tear. I can tell I'm starting to dry out. The door's been open twice since KleKlop. Once for the ice cream and once just to check on us.
