May 1st, 1866
Independence, Missouri. Beautiful town, situated right between Harsh Dictatorship, MO and Dependence, MO (I wonder if one ever were to ever say something in the realm of "I will meet you in Dependence," would it lead to utter confusion? Ha! Thoughts such as these tickle my funny bone and will no doubt get me through the harsh fordings and pace-adjusting adventures that lie ahead!). This is where myself and my party of fellow manifest destiny-believing compatriots (Obadiah, Joanna, and Marvin) will begin our epic journey across the treacherous Oregon territory. There are several other parties making the trip as well, including a wealthy banker and a proud doctor. I have been recruited by a schoolteacher with little in the way of funds, but rich in spirit and point multipliers. Oops! Andrew has told me that my name has been changed to FART. Not a Biblical name, I'm pretty sure. Obadiah, Joanna, and Marvin are now POO, PEE, and ASS. I trust that Andrew has done this for a reason, perhaps this codename system will prove invaluable later on. We have purchased three oxen, 300 lbs. of food, some axles, some spare wheels, quite a few boxes of bullets, and yet only a single pair of clothes. Andrew, our leader, claims that this will save money and "doesn't really affect anything anyhow."
Squirrels will probably be mildly scarce from now on.
We have begun our trek across this harsh terrain! Moving at a steady pace has kept our health from taking a turn for the worse. Things are looking up already. We are eating hearty rations and just the other day Andrew shot over 1200 lbs. of food! However, we could only lug back 200 lbs. The strange thing? It was all squirrel meat.
May 3rd, 1866
We found some wild berries! What luck! Methinks this journey shall be fruitful. Ha! Fruit-ful! Pardon the pun!
May 5th, 1866
Our wagon reached the Kansas River Crossing. The water stood at 6 ft. deep and -8 degrees Farenheit. Andrew, ever the fearless leader, made the bold decision to ford the river. We lost our three oxen, 475 lbs. of food, our single pair of clothing, all but one of our boxes of bullets, and ASS. Andrew did not appear to have seen this coming, but I remain loyal to our leader. Hopefully, conditions will improve.
May 6th, 1866
Conditions have gotten drastically worse. Andrew has decided to rest to ease our spirits, but unfortunately decided to do so for 99 days, which will delay our trip until early Fall, meaning a large portion of the trip will not take place until we are deep into winter. POO and I have tried to wake Andrew, but he is deep into his hibernation. We can see the next stop from here, it can't be more than a days travel. Sadly, our unflinching loyalty calls for us to remain by our leader's side until this rest has ended.
July 9th, 1866
I have come to assume Andrew is dead, as he is unable to be woken. Also, I have contracted cholera, dysentery, and measles, as well as broken my leg twice while resting motionless in this wagon. Thankfully, I was able to find a pink robe to clothe myself with when I felt better.
August 15th, 1866
Our rest has ended! We were able to stave off starvation by trading all of our wheels to a kindly old Native American for foodstuffs and bullets. Onward to Oregon!
August 16th, 1866
Andrew has decided to rest for another 99 days. He also sold our remaining food to a little girl in exchange for 20 pairs of clothing. My faith in our noble leader is starting to vacillate.
November 26, 1866
Alas, but I and the rest of my party are on the verge of death as I write this! Andrew is preparing to ford a river that is 20 ft. deep. I would try to escape, but I implicitly trust Andrew far too much to commit such an act of mutiny. Andrew managed to commemorate our journey and memory by writing this on a headstone, underneath which we shall be buried:
I asked him to include the names of the others on the headstone, but he refused. Ah well, I suppose it doesn't really matter. God bless Oregon.