Dear Diary: Today I stole a little girl's backpack and found you in it. Gotta make use of you somehow.
Heh, I can only imagine how Mother would feel if she knew I've resorted to robbing little kids. I can't say if she'd be proud of my audacity, or disappointed in the meagerness of the pickings.
Well, she and Father taught me everything I know, so I can't be blamed for my lot.
Shame for the girl, but hey, you do what you have to do to survive, am I right? Damned splendid little conversationalist you are, huh? Never understood the appeal of these things.
Old Machron finally moved on. Damn shame, but that's what happens to scum like us I suppose.
Living on the streets ain't exactly the wonderful dream that I'm just sure all the kids are fantasizing about nowadays.
But then, who am I to say that any of those sheep that flood the streets are getting much better.
Of course Mach went and left his damned kid and I wasn't in any position to deny the brat a little help. Despite what happened, the brat wouldn't quit talking.
I don't think he quite understands that his old man ain't coming back. Brat's kinda got the same deal I got. Oh damn. Didn't mean to start getting all introspective.
Old Mach woulda gotten a real kick outta this.
Tried to teach that damn brat how to get by on his own. Apparently old Mach never got around to teaching him how to steal. Brat's lucky I haven't decided to leave yet.
He doesn't seem too upset at his old man's death. Heh, I guess that's our difference right there.