This may be the last time I ever write in this journal. In all truth, I may be in a jail cell this time tomorrow. I have no idea how I allowed myself to go along with this stupid, idiotic, completely bogus plan, but...what can I say? Rad pulled me into it once again. And Uncle Chauncey knows something's up, I can feel it. He keeps asking me questions about why I asked off work tonight and how come I don't want to dogout some trim with him. I just told him I was going to the Safari with friends and playing Atari afterwards, which did the trick. But still...it's like he can smell sleaze on me or something.
Please, let me make it out of this alive, I want to see Trish again.