[[BoxJam at a PC. The screen reads Diaryland. Ms. BoxJam walks up]]

BoxJam typing: Man what a day. Sixteen tons of trash to haul out to the curb, and what do I get? Another day older and deeper in debt. Maybe someday I'll buy us a house where there's a trash *chute*, and...I think I hea[obscured]ure gotta

Ms. BoxJam: Whacha doin'?

[[BoxJam's hand is pressing on the keyboard]]


BoxJam: Nothin'...

Ms. BoxJam: Why are you pressing so fast? What are you trying to hide? Is that a diary? BoxJam has a virtual diary?

BoxJam: Look, if it's all the same to you...

Ms. BoxJam: Ha ha!

[[BoxJam is alone]]

BoxJam: If she'd only had an older sibling, all her 'ha ha' sensibilities would've been used up by now...