10/31 (Sat.)

Angus has recovered! Really, I was terrified that he was going to die. But now I don’t know what to do. He can’t stay here. I can’t let him. Mom is ready to kill Dad as it is, and Dad is going nuts from trying to write beautiful songs, which he is totally unable to do. Last night he came up to sing me a new one and I had to tell him that rhyming “focus” with “mucus” was a bad idea, especially in a love song.

He looked so sad I thought he was going to cry. I think he really believed it was brilliant. The curse seems to have hit him even harder than it hit Bennett. Maybe it’s because he’s older.

I need to ask Angus if people ever get used to it. They must, or they would just end up flinging themselves off bridges or something. But even if they do get used to it, they must be so sad.

Well, I can’t ask him now. He’s sleeping again, which is what he has mostly been doing for the last couple of days. I’m so worried about him I’m not even going out trick-or-treating tonight. I feel like I need to be here in case he needs me.

And what am I going to do about him? I suppose we could try leaving again, and when we got to the point where he collapsed, I could pick him up and throw him into the next yard. But I’m afraid that might kill him. Or some dog or owl or something might come along and eat him.

I think I’m going to be sick.