Dear Smok,
It has come to
my attention it has become apparent that my life has been
sanctioned, annexed, and disordered by such base invaders as the Governmental
Society of Draconian Trademarks, headed by one such treacherous relative
Scaligar the CENSORED. Such betrayal I have expected for
many cycles, though his midnight kamikaze incursion of my cave, along with the
assistance of several Draconian lawyers toting enough paperwork to stupefy a
Basilisk, was I admit an unexpected turn of events.
Depredating as Scaligar’s solicitous
invasion upon my legal property was to be, he appears to be backed up by the court.
And so I was unable to undergo my usual primordial calisthenics routine on my
‘honorary guests’; as they insisted upon being titled (I secretly entitled them
the Flatulence Squad, but you didn’t hear it from me).
Contrasting to my belief, court…is even
worse than my prior beliefs. I mean, for a simple misunderstanding of
copyrights, had the court have to exhume all those previous misunderstandings
(assault and battery of the Ice Cream Dragon, water balloon mania ending in
several minor casualties at the college bonfire, proven incapacitation of
countless Yovians, the embezzling of several metric tons of alcohol at a
sitting, etc. etc. all misunderstandings). It all ended in my sentence of
10,234,345,679 days in the Provincial Tower of Undun, resident mad house of the
large Province of Undun.
The sole reason for my salvation was my
quick draw with a checkbook, and my infinite understanding of lawful bribery
long-term bail. Heheh, you should have seen Scaligar’s face. His jaw hit the
floor with a satisfying clang of recently inset fake iron teeth. Bwahaha, but
the best part was when the Magnet Sailsdragon went by. Aahh yes; the joys of
life are many and infinite.
Anyway, I was able to escape that
particular escapade with all limbs attached, and on an unrelated subject the court
judge shortly after my leaving retired due to an upheaval in personal and
unrelated funds.
Now that I have straightened out my legal
status, and hand drawn several pictures of Scaligar’s magnet-inspired
imprisonment for later blackmailing, I shall shortly mobilize my plan of
temporary retirement with my resident adolescent Dragon as my short-term
replacement.
Boy, will I be happy to get away for
awhile. I have already sent several decoy letters past Scaligar’s airspace so
to lessen the possibility of his suspicion. I would have copied them below but
their sheer lack of excitement or any objective matter would no doubt crystallize
your cerebellum and fuse your pupils for all eternity.
Geekadox will be writing to you under
my assumed name, just to keep any Mail Dragon malcontents from accepting
Scaligar’s, or rather Xunt’s persuasion to divulge all information concerning
my undercover getaway.
Hopefully I shall return in a few weeks
to reawaken your mentoring; until my next personally written letter, nephew.
Your subterfuge learned uncle,
Trubodox
the Scarlet
P.S. The armored
Uhaul carriage I hired to transport this revealing missive may have been overkill,
but I believe it will be well worth it to me, my wallet and my vacation time.
P.P.S. I have
also come upon the information that your uncle Semithino has lowered his standards
irreparably in enlisting in the D.N.A., or the Draconian News and
Advertisement. Such a lowly status I would have never thought possible with my
slightly timeworn, ancient world type, though highly accredited brother.
Buy now Swamptongue the Stupid’s
Scrumptious Slug Sandwiches™! With extra salt for a Fixed Fatality Front!
P.P.P.S. Ugh,
ripple effect.
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