The day started off terribly. My astrologer advised me that I would
receive a dark communication from a high place, by which I could only
assume that I would receive another rant-filled phone call from the
Furher. I was so upset at the prediction that I had the astrologer taken
out and shot, which totally ruined my morning.

Things improved later that evening, however. My dear Marlena visited me
with her bevy of SS studs. She was wearing my favorite outfit, the
leather corset and black spiked heels, and after I put on my nice white
evening gown she sodomized me for two hours with her strap-on dildo. It
really picked up my day, particularly inasmuch as the sirens soon went
off and we had to relocate to my secret bomb shelter.

We were sitting around drinking brandy and shooting heroin in the
bomb shelter when the phone rang. It was the Furher. He was yelling at
me, asking me if I knew that the city was being bombed. "You stupid
little corporal" I wanted to say to him, "I'm in the same town as you,
of course I know that Berlin is being bombed." But of course I could
only sit there in my dress and nod. Eventually I managed to get
something out that we might do more if we had any spare fighter parts.
At which point he grew even more furious and rang off.

I guess the astrologer was right. Too bad I had him shot. Oh, well,
there's always more astrologers to be had.

As for the little corporal, I have it on good authority that he only has
one testicle. I heard it from Marlena, who heard it from her friend the
Countess von Kuhn, who heard it from her hairdresser, who is the same
hairdresser as is employed by Eva Braun, who told her about the one testicle.

One testicle! What a hoot!