Stories I Write for English and Myself

Lockie Leonard (Monologue)

Grade 8 level A+ standard
Phillip Leonard's Diary
Diary Entry 1
Dear Diary,
Ever since Mum, Dad, Lockie, Barbara, and I moved to this old, crummy-looking town, I have been so extremely nervous about how my life will be here. I had anticipated that the area would be different than the city, but I would never have imagined that it would cause my bits to leak EVERY SINGLE NIGHT! It doesn't matter. At least I have Lockie around to support me. He always makes pissing the bed something to laugh at so that I don't have to continuously worry about it all the time. I honestly couldn't ask for a better brother.

Diary Entry 2
Dear Diary,
I started year 5 at Angelus State School last week in this old, run-down town I now live in. I love it here! I haven't even made any friends because everyone just seems to have their own cliques. Back at my old school, Lockie helped me fit in with my class. Everyone with older siblings was cool back then. Especially ones that surf. There is this one lad, George, who was forced to show me around at lunch my Mr Stilton, who is nice to me, but he likes to play footy on the oval with the scary, chunky blokes at play time. I wish Lachlan and I were the same age.

Diary Entry 3
Hey Diary,
I got home from school today only to find another brother-free room and another brother-free house. No one to build up bulky, rainbow Lego towers only to run them down again with my awesome remote control car that dad got me last Christmas. He's been gone. Lock's been gone. Away from this swamp with his new woman and his cool high school friends, only to leave his lame little brother to talk with mum as she feeds Barbara potato, carrot, and pumpkin flavoured purée in the pink and white high chair. Leave it to Phillip Leonard, who sets his pants every night, to achieve the greatest accomplishment: The loneliest person in the world.

Diary Entry 4
Dear Diary,
Guess what?! Lockie has changed. Now when I say "changed", I mean really changed. It's almost as if a psychiatrist has given Lock some sort of anti-depressant. The other day I was talking to him about how the doctor has me on a new plan to help me keep the bed dry, and unlike the one hundred other times I speak to him, he actually listened and spoke back. Things have totally changed.

Today Lachlan and I rode through the city. We swerved through the dozens of irritated pedestrians that probably reckon our generation is a bunch of slags; went to the right of the bogans that live in the town hall; and waived at Snowy, who is dad's partner, as we past the cop shop. After finally reaching the medical office, Lock and I burst into the lobby with great enthusiasm causing all the sickies to leap out of their knickers. I pulled out my new, yellow crayon and drew a gigantic Sun, which represented my success in keeping my bedsheets piss-free for the whole week, across the chart that my doctor set up for me.

My best friend was back.
My support person was back.
My brother was back.
Lockie Leonard was back.