I was deep in thought one evening, having just been visited by the inimitable Horace Smythe. My mind was still in a whirl, but I heard a small tinkling noise. I looked around, but it was nothing. Again--that strange, metallic sound. What could it be? Could it be an intruder?
I cautiously opened the front door, and there--propped on the mat, was this strange Travel Bug. It didn't look very friendly, but neither did it look threatening. I picked it up, and I heard it say something. Putting my ear right next to its mouth, I heard the faint whisper, "Log me, log me!"
Well, I felt obligated to comply. Who knows what magical (or malevolent?) incidents would befall me should I not comply. Of course, having now complied, perhaps the charm needs my spirit no longer? Should I disappear, at least this log will remain. Or will it?