Dear Diary: I have no idea what the date is, so I just won't put any down. If the world goes topsy-turvy, it's not my fault. I'm all in a flutter. I hardly know where to begin writing.
I guess it all began when that pig-headed Myers came breaking into my house in the middle of the night. Breaking in, literally! My front door was locked, naturally, so he just kicked in a window and walked through it. I was down in the basement with my poor Romans, who hadn't been sleeping too well lately. I was trying to get them to take some barbiturates, but they seemed afraid to do so for some reason. They preferred to turn and toss on their cushions all night.
Well, at any rate I heard a noise. And then the next thing I heard was his bull voice calling, "Bugsy! Bugsy!" Before I could head him off he was at the top of the steps and clumping down. My poor Romans just stared at him.
"So here you are," he said triumphantly.
"Is that odd?" I replied. "After all, it's my house. And, while we're on the matter, I'd like to know how you got in, and by what right—"
"Oh, shut up," he said and pointed at my Romans. "Are these the sixteen you stole first?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," I answered coldly. "These are some foreign students from one of my classes. We're holding a seminar in Roman customs."
He just snorted, and, ignoring me entirely, turned to the nearest Roman and started jabbering at him in barbarous high-school Latin. I even had trouble following him, but my Roman didn't. His face lit up and before I could say a word he was telling Myers all about what had happened to them, and the tests I'd been giving them. And right then and there, I learned something about Roman ingratitude. Can you believe it? Those sixteen young fellows weren't the least bit thankful for being saved from death in the Arena. All that concerned them was the fact that they were homesick. Homesick! For lions and gladiators!