Subj: Your Old Mac II
Date: Thu, Nov 2, 1995 11:04 AM PDT
Dear Mr. Patterson:
You don't know me, and we should keep it that way. I'm the guy who stole your computer in July, 1995. Listen. I just had a change of heart and well, I want to give it back.
Frankly, I can't live with myself anymore and haven't been able to sleep, eat, or bathe since committing this heinous crime. It's been a few months, so you can imagine how I look (bags under my eyes, distended stomach, a layer of scum covering my body). Maybe it was the putrid stench of my privates that made me feel the remorse I do. Or maybe that thing in your head that makes you feel bad when you've done something wrong. What do they call that? Continence?
I had dreams filled with horrific images of you; your unshaven face, wild eyes, and knobby knees. Standing over me, you cut off my head, shit down my throat, stick syringes in my eyes, and then take a picture of it. You then scan the picture and use it for the next cover of OOZE. By the way, your e-zine's not that bad. Not that funny, either, but whatever. You have too many longer pieces (child's anecdotes) and the pop-cultural articles are hacky, old-news. The graphics are okay, but I always get the impression that whoever does them could've done a better job, but they just got lazy.
But who am I kidding? You probably don't care about my opinion, since I did break into your place. And I would've beaten you to a bloody pulp too, if you had been there. Heheheh. Just kidding. No, I'm not. So I hope we can be friends and I'd like to get in touch with you about returning your property. If there's no convenient time to meet, I can just drop by your place. With a big knife. Whoops! Sorry about that. I hope you didn't buy another computer, since your original is still in good condition. In fact, I added some new powerful chips and stuff that will allow you to break into government computers and with their power, create... like a hot girl or something. I know that you could probably use a girl 'cause I stand outside your windows and watch you. It's nice to look at you. Doing things. Incidentally, you have a very delicate way of touching yourself. I wish I did. I guess that's something we can talk about when I have you tied up and I'm sticking your favorite cookies, Nutter Butters, in your rectum. Tee hee. Well, I have to go. The guy I bludgeoned with his Powerbook is waking up and I want this all to seem like a bad dream.
Love (your favorite criminal psychopath and fellow Ooze
No it's not.
The Journal of Substance, Wit,and Dangerous Masturbatory Habits