Pale student of unhallowed arts

High school is pretty stupid, but March break sort of makes up for it. I got up late, made coffee, and read Frankenstein. My mother left a note reminding me that I had to get my G1 licence this week, so I rounded up my ID. Arne was practising card illusions in the basement most of the day.
Yesterday I went into Toronto with Duncan. We got him a kilt at Hell's Belles and a shirt, and then looked at stuff on Queen West. We went to the weird antique store near Bathurst and he was seriously thinking of getting a mandolin. He kept saying it was like a langspille or something, and if he could play a half-eaten one of those he could play a mandolin. Luckily he didn't buy the damn thing. We went to the all-ages show at the Vatikan. He was looking a little too cheery for the scene, but he said he was fine. He got more and more depressed as we got back to Milborough. "Man oh man," he kept saying, "I have to go to Shelbyville to count people this week." I didn't think he was old enough to sound like that yet. Anyway, I've got his cell number and I'll try to get him to do something later this week.