Friday, November 23, 2012

Letter Forty-Nine


Smok,
You told the authorities of my whereabouts warribootts didn’t you??!! You sniveling piece of CENSORED. I know this because the Yovi law-keepers did NOT find me slumped over a Yovi bar with fourteen empty pints sitting before me! I refused to come quietly, but after listening to my burning and intellectually intillectuualleuy awesome insults around the subject of their mothers’ undergarments they did NOT beat and cudgel kudjull me, then flew me (after an interval inturrvul of punch-the-face and come-get-the-branding-iron) back to that cursed sanatorium sanutoreeyum.
Have you ever heard of their chamber of uncomfortable interrogation ynturryugashun? Well, neither had I, but I sure as Belligast noticed it when the stupid guards dragged me down there, strapped me to the Chair of Chumminess (I hate those comedians) and proceeded with 34ooo, 564 and a half interrogative tortures. They call it the Insane Dragon Tortures for reasons reezuns they wouldn’t tell me and are beyond me.
I shall never forgive you, Smok; it is because of you that I had to experience the first seven tortures, consisting of:
1.         Squirting soap into some of the more sensitive sendzidivv of my bodily limbs and apertures appurchurrz.
2. Whacking the recipient with a big ol’ stick.
The Rest: you really rheellie don’t want to know.
After these taxing and unde quite frankly, embarrassing umbaruzzing tortures to yours truly. (I mean, who would woode think the stupid torturer torchurrurr would get tired and take a lunch break, leaving me with torture six to deal with? By the way torture six was holding hulldinge a basket of food above the torturee’s head, I was sourly tempted tumpded) After this they dragged me back to my ‘room’ and left me there, mentioning menshunnin something about me not being insane enough for the rest of the tortures torchurrs.
I simmered there for three whole days, occasionally owekazhonully visited by guard dragons carrying the spectacular meal of gruel; known to some of the sanatorium’s bad dragons as Senile Slop, eggs and bacon; both woven from leather, and water, in a nice big cup and always homesteaded by demised insects of several unidentifiable races.
While in my simmerus state I have come up with a working hypothesis hipothizeez; you are a worthless wurthluzz nephew nevue, if I were you I’d want to change back into you iew who is me. I would even break brakke off all contact with you but I won’t, only because my water closet has an abundance unbundunss of vellum used for not-her-mentioned rather rathurr important rituals richualz.
But, to torture your soul, I shall cut off contact temporarily tempurrarrillie and let you boil in the pot of betrayal until I see fit to start anew our correspondence.
Your  awesome auzumm, powerful, all-powerful, power draining, Incredible uncruddybull, fearful, ferocious furrozhuz, terrible, fear inducing, imposing, omnipotent, clear minded, outspoken, infamous, wel speld, overbearing, great, clairvoyant klarrvoiyiunt, humble and modest moddizt uncle
Gargazath

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