Article Diary of One of the Wagon Party Members From Oregon Trail
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!
