Tom's Diary
Written on my Bark,
Aunt Polly is so exasperatin'. WHY can't I go swimming? Is't playin' hooky really all that much bad? It's only a few hours of school, and in school it's so boring with ol' Mr. Dobbins. Why, we really ought to get'im back for all those whippins' he gave us before. Back to Auntie. I reckon that lady won't let me do any'thin with'ou askin her. All day, it's just chores chores chores. Auntie wishes for me to be more like Sid, but trust me, Sid is evil. I'll lick' 'im fo'dat nosy bratty way of 'im, I promise you. He's a tryin' to get me in trouble any chance he can, and he'll do anythin' for it too. I reckon he really isn't related to me, it just ain' possible. He's such a goody two shoes and "model boy of 'th village. I like Mary better, she always helps me, but sometimes she's just too good for me. Why, now that brings me to 'dat Becky Thatcher. Why, she's so pretty-- so much better than t'at Amy Lawrence. Oh, ther'a so many girls that are worth a'lookin at. Why now, me n' Becky are getting closer and closer. Just t'at day before we went together to visit Hucky, and Hucky showed us a real a'nice place with pretty flowers. Why, I don' reckon I know n' what's it 'bout girls, why they like those flowers so much. I'd much rather dig 'em up, or go lookin' for treasure with Huckleberry and Joe..
No more' a space left. Besides, it' a too tirin' to write all t'at much. I'm a'go swimming now.
~~~~~~Tom Sawyer the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main~~~~~~
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Huck's Diary
OH, I hate that the ol' miss widder is makin' me write, and read, and dress properly, and go to church, and school, oh I reckon she'll start to make me wear tigh' collars sooner o' later.
The Widder means fo' the best n' all, but oh, I hate livin' like this. I can't bear it. I can't go to school, and I have to a' ask the Widder fo' everythin' I can't even go outside' and play---I can't help it. I don't a' want to sleep in a' bed, and wear shoes--I hate those shoes' They are so stuffy and they pinch a' my toes. I can't, I'mma run away. ................... <-- wasting ink is fun'
I really need to talk to Tom, now I reckon I can't go like this much longer. If I go' ta rope, I' can' slope.
P.S. THE WIDDER' MADE ME a' WRITE TA'T
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