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The Secret Diary of Marietta Rossi Started by: Deadpool on Mar 28, '09 01:01
Bound in human flesh and inked in blood, it contains bizarre burial rituals and demon resurrection passages. It was never meant for the world of the living. That's right, ladies and gentlemen, through great personal hardship and even more luck, I am now in possession of the infamous Diary of Marietta Rossi. For those of you who don't know, it was stolen from her bedroom last month. The cat burglar who stole it was found dead by her bedroom window. His partner was found dead in cab outside of Detroit. The cab driver was found dead, outside his cab, where I accidentally ran him over. Without further adieu, The Secret Diary of Marietta Rossi...


January 14th, 1932


Dear Diary,


Today I gave up dressmaking for a life of crime. My first criminal act? Shoplifting this diary. My second criminal act? Attempting to impersonate Billie Holliday at the bar last night. Somedays I forget how awfully tone deaf I really am. And you know me, get a few drinks in my and I sing like a bird. Well, a bird whose vocal cords have been crushed by a truck. Also, I think that birthmark on my left butt cheek is changing shape. It's starting to look more like Roosevelt and less like a pine tree. I think I'll go back and rob that store tomorrow....


I also grabbed an old lady's purse, but I'm giving it back to her tomorrow, it clashes with my shoes. I also seem to remember that my father made some cash selling drugs. Well, I don't have any drugs, but I do have oregano. I bet I can sell it as pot if I chop it up fine enough and look for an idiot to sell to. Now, I'm going to put on my ballet slippers and dance around the house, yelling "I'm a pretty princess." Because I am. A pretty, pretty princess. Afterwards, I'll take a bath, because, let's face it, I sweat. A lot. And it smells bad. Especially when you take my uncontrollable flatulence into account. Maybe I should shoplift a candle.
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Adds extra security to Vic's Wicks and Candle Shoppe.
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Puts a black-pearl handled Colt .45 in a black wrapped box.

Leaves the box on Miranda's door step and walks away
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LOL my bad, was texting a girl named miranda. meant to say Marietta. sorry mom. =P
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February 14th, 1932


Dear Diary,


Another Valentine's Day, come and gone. No, I didn't get a date. On a more positive note, I decided to kill three homeless people. I made Valentine's Day cards from their hearts. Believe it or not, human hearts don't look like Valentine's Hearts. Which explains my lack of a date. I'm moving up quite nicely in the criminal underworld and I think, if I keep my nose clean, I'll be running the show in a month or so. I've made a lot of money, maybe enough to have that sixth toe removed. Also, I learned something today. There are a few words that I've been using wrong. Like "spiderface." I used to say, "cut off her nose to spiderface." Oddly enough, that doesn't make much sense. Oh well. Maybe no one noticed. I mean, they didn't notice that I had something stuck in my teeth all day. I made a great drug deal today. I sold three pounds of baby powder to this guy, Thomas_Rourke. I don't think he'll notice the difference. Thanks for listening, diary. You can be my Valentine's Day date.
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May 2, 1932:


Dear Diary,


Just a note. Putting a horse's head in your enemy's bed is effective, but quite a bit more difficult than you'd think. It took me all night to saw the damn thing's head off. At first, it kept kicking me, then it kept throwing me off. In hindsight, I should have shot the damn thing first. Now I have to go figure out how to get horse blood stains off my clothes.
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