Dear readers,

Again I owe you an apology for not updating.

After setting up fort in Paula's house, quite confident that nobody could enter, I became aware that I had not blocked the fireplace. Unfortunately, before I could do so, Paula dropped into it and produced a bread knife from her jacket. She seemed angry and was not bamboozled by my makeshift palm-habit disguise.

Immediately I un-barricaded the door and ran outside, only to be confronted by a large, talking cactus. Paula failed to see him, and continued to advance on me with the bread knife, demanding to know just how much I had learned of her past. I told her I knew nothing (a lie) and that she had lost her mind.

She looked as though she was going to stab me, and she probably would have had she not been interrupted by the talking cactus (calling himself Sanchez), who seemed to recognise her. I ran for it.

As I approached the shores of Traulasia, I found a confuddled group of nuns in a large cage. They called out for help, so I approached the cage to investigate. They told me that they had been locked in their prison by Paula. I asked them if they knew where the key to the enormous lock that was containing them was, but they said that they did not. I told them that I was going to find the key and confront Paula (a lie) and that they should wait there, which I later realised was a rather stupid thing to say.

I ran to the beach and found, luckily, a kind of paddle boat operated by placing your feet on a bar and making a cycling motion with your feet. I wondered whether Charlie was on the island, but I was saved the trouble of finding a paddle-buddy by the appearance of another nun, dressed more elaborately than the others. She looked familiar, but she wore sunglasses that covered half of her face.

I approached her and she identified herself as Mother Palula. She told me that the only chance of finding the key was to paddle to the Americas, and then to find our way to New York city, where we had to find a man called Mr. Scoppetta, who could give us the key to the cage.

And so now I sit here in the paddle boat with Mother Palula, typing this message as Traulasia slowly (and I mean VERY slowly) fades from the horizon.

With leg-achedness,
G. Caprice