"I can't understand why more people haven't added you as a favorite. You are one rad fucker!" -- uridium15, diaryland

Tuesday, February 08, 2005

Fuck Fanny...And Her Belated Birthday Card

Ya ever lived in an apartment for say, 2 years, but still received mail for a tenant who used to reside there? Doesn't that frustrate you just a little bit?

It's tolerable for a year or so. People have to change addresses. That's a lot of work. But anything over two years it's like they're just pissing in your sandbox, isn't it?

I received mail directed to a guy named "Roland" sent from "Fanny" (names have been changed to protect the fictional). For a while, I would give the mail back to the post office marked "return to sender-addressee has moved". Clear. Concise. Straight forward. Still it came.

I don't do that no more.

Hey, I say if Fanny can't be bothered knowing where her friends live, then I can't be bothered with Fanny. Fuck Fanny, and fuck Fanny's belated birthday card.

Now I write these pinheads back myself:

Dear Fanny,

I am writing this letter on behalf of your good friend Roland.

He apologizes for his tardiness in not reciprocating your correspondence over the past 3 years, however I feel I can share some of the responsibility for Roland's infrequent punctuality.

See, for the past few years, I have kept Roland chained to a wall in the basement. I have Roland wear leather chaps, a gimp mask and I keep a rubber ball in his mouth. I didn't always keep a rubber ball in his mouth, but the screaming is much quieter now.

Every so often, after the wounds from the whippings heal, I let Roland down and explore each of his orifices with various large gourds and cold, steel piping -- you know, to give him a rest. But Roland always ends up back on the wall. It's probably for the best however, since there are many rats rampant in the basement, many of which I'm sure are disease-ridden. And I wouldn't want Roland to get sick.

I'm afraid I must cut this letter short, Fanny. It appears Roland has defecated on the floor again. My oh my, that boy! Or should I say dog? No matter how much I push his face into it, he just won't seem to take to the toilet training.

Well, Godspeed dear Fanny. Roland sends his regards. Or atleast I think he does. It's been difficult to understand him since I extracted his teeth with an Allen wrench.

the Monk

By the way......I don't get mail for "Roland" anymore.