You've made three mistakes in one week.

By any standard, that's two too many.

I was supposed to meet with Charles for dinner tonight, but he never showed. I came by his apartment, but there's no sign of him, and no answer when I called. It's not like him. His room is empty, except for the helmet I found there. That's it.

I think he's gone.

When you get a second between makeouts with your boyfriend, grandpa's on a sadness bender and he's making friends. When's the next family meeting?

Got a file on Erik Lensherr?

Not that I can't appreciate the thought that went into this, but you ought to think of a more fun type of way to trick people. Catching people off guard and leading them to embarrassing themselves? Fun. Freaking them out and creating a panic on the brink of hysteria? Not so much.

Unless it's Bunny, but he's that special exception--and you probably don't even know what I'm talking about. How can so many adults even see me?

And let's say this isn't a prank, and I really was fictional. Does that matter? It felt real to me, as far as I'm concerned my life is real.

So now that I've accepted my new realness, I'd like to go and do my job. This climate really isn't meant for someone who visits the South Pole on a whim.