He's on to me--I thought I could avoid him, but after just one day online he's tracked me down, and is already trying to do me in. I received a letter in my mailbox just this morning; I opened it up only to see him, lying in wait with some kind of toothbrush. I'll say no more, except that I got away from the lunatic this time, but next time I may not be so lucky. Read what he wrote, and pray for me. -P
My dear Patrick,
It has come to my attention that you are a scoundrel of the first order, and have acted in monstrously wicked ways for some time now.
Now, it would be very easy for me to denounce you right now to the local magistrate, for he would have the good sense to pinch you on the ears until you are humbled. But I care only for your continued health and your ultimate success, Patrick; which is why I have requested permission from the authorities to punish you myself, slapping you upside the buttocks with a wooden paddle, until you have learned a thing or two about the truth.
We live in a world of powerful forces, such as the inexplicable and dangerous force that makes you act like an utter buffoon.
Truly, you remind me of the foolish characters once written about in novel lore: I can think of a few examples, such as ‘The Foolish Dolt’ by EK Fingers, and ‘Mercy denied to the Fop’ by Solomon McSinister. Remember what befalls the antiheros of these works, O Wencherous One: they are cast into ditches and pelted with gourds, forced to take their families and livestock with them into exile; they are drowned in rivers and then fed to penguins. I don’t want to scare you with such talk, but I must avert you of your brain-addled jiggery!
You need direction, you need a mentor. You do not, as you claim, need extra cheese on your ‘already-cheesy’ pizza, and a large bucket of melons for dinner. You do not need a life-size statue of Giles Rankin-Snifter, the infamous Austrian ecologist, in your shrimping parlour.
Giles Rankin-Snifter is a fraud, a quack, a phoney; you ought to expunge his teachings from your mind. He has said that we need to clean up the air and wipe the soil with ammonia to make grow more robust soybean crops. This, Patrick, is folly beyond the acceptable scale. Remember well that Rankin-Snifter too was threatened with an ass-slapping by paddle, until he swore off his heresy, and his punishment was lessened to a few kisses on the cheek by his distant aunt, who had nasty tuna breath and multiple boils on her neck.
But while it was not too late for Rankin-Snifter to turn from folly, I fear it is too late for you.
Let us consider some of your heinous malfeasances:
1)You have threatened to collapse the root principle of the universe into an omnipotent theorem called ‘The Answer to Everything including Why Hummus tastes Gross’. I beg you, do not do it; allow us to cure you instead! Also, 2) You have drawn a cartoon of a talking light bulb named ‘Clarkie McBrightness’ on the back of a sheet of cardboard, and sold it to Ping Poy Loh the one-legged grocer on Bilbo Boulevard--an act which galls me. Could you conceive of a more blasphemous effrontery to the truth?
You have much perverse devilry in you, Patrick and it is this I must correct, whether with paddles to the ass, or by gluing a carrot to your nose and having you attacked by a corrective jackrabbit, until you recant, due to the many scratches on your face.
You dare to rub your elbows in a muddy peat bog and prance about the sidewalks of the Cathedral District, showing your muddied limbs to the townsfolk and asking them directions to the Plumbers Convention? Well, that sort of foolishness may go unpunished in laxer counties, but you forget that I have connections with the township. The bureaucrats, when I say ‘fart!’, they ask me ‘how loud?’, ‘how long?’ and ‘how gaseous?’
But what is your response to my warnings? More tongue-clucking, more rebellion? Fie, fie, you have tested my patience beyond the limit. Out with the electric armpit-enhancer!
Yes the armpit enhancer will be your first lesson in remorse and regret.
Now I will give you a taste of my special instruction; you will feel shock, first in your armpits, and then in other places, so long as you persist in this delinquency. In my hand is a toothbrush, yellow, and bristled at both ends; because it is not the usual type of toothbrush I have decided to call it an ‘armpit-enhancer.’ When your armpits feel the brushing tip of the armpit-enhancer, you will howl in helpless ticklishness; you will be helpless in your agony and I bet that you’ll renounce yourself at once! You shall dare not laugh at me, while I tickle you!
Sincerely
Your Arch-Nemesis
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