What if, one day, you woke up in maroon plaid boxers and a faded gray T-shirt? What if, one morning, you weren’t in Los Angeles anymore and your spoiled, snowy white, Bishon Frise wasn’t on the edge on the edge of your bed big enough to fit 5 horses, plus your whole family, on? What if, you woke up and you weren’t in your French silk pink pajamas and you chipped a nail? Horrifying to those of you that realize waking up like this either means your daddy’s not rich anymore or you woke up as, of all people, me. If you’re sensitive, close this book, because I won’t spare your feelings. Go on, throw this book in the farthest corner of your bedroom, bury it in your 10 acre back yard, and, if your so scared of my little introduction, burn this small, small book written poorly by a 6th grader. 3 rules in here: 1. NO BOYS SHALL READ THIS, ESPECIALLY WEIRD AND OBNOUXIOUS ONES!! 2. No “Scaredy cats” 3. Don’t criticize my poor writing!!
If you’re not usually scared, but you’re kind of freaked by my criticism, let me tell you, I wouldn’t hurt a fly. Not just I wouldn’t, but I couldn’t. That’s right, your talking to a girl that a 3-year-old can beat in an arm wrestling match, not just that, but it could beat me in a marathon, too.
Now, if you think I’m a complete loser, your theory will be proven correct in the first chapter. This is the last chance for frightened girls and weirded-out boys to close this book. Now, Let’s Begin.