Sent: Sun, November 14, 2010 3:23:32 AM
Subject: Hello Dear Chosen one,
Hello Dear Chosen one, Please excuse me for all the inconveniences my mail could cause you. I have the pleasure to expose to you my predicaments. Please even if we never knew before, I believe firmly that on the basis of the right of humanitarian assistance that a real confidence and love can arise from our communication and also a real partnership between us. I am Rose Adams, the legitimate daughter of the Director of cocoa export murdered by the rebel’s here because of the war and political crisis going on here in my country. My father had deposited a consignment with a security company here containing the sum of 10.700, 000m USD (Ten million seven hundred dollars USD) to allow him to conceive a project of investment at the end of his mandate. Regrettably the fate decided on it otherwise. Today my major concern is to move out this sum outside here. Given that I am the only child and I have seriously suffered from the ragging and the harassments on behalf of the political opponents of my Father. It is in this prospect that I contact you. Because of the political war and the hostilities in this country I seriously wish to leave from here and live the rest of my life in a more peaceful and politically more stable and quiet country. I am honourably seeking your assistance in the following ways: 1) To provide a bank account into which this money would be transferred to . (2) To serve as a guardian of this fund since I am under age. (3) To make arrangement for me to come over to your country to further my education. If you can be of an assistance to me I will be pleased to offer to you 20% of the total fund. I would like to count on your human, virtuous and professional qualities to actualise this project. I look forward to receive your urgent respond Thanks for your care and may God bless you for your kind heart to hear the cry of an orphan. Yours sincerely, Miss Rose Tokyo Rose, Chosen One, that sounds nice! Chosen One. I haven’t been chosen for anything for any particular reason since grade school. I was chosen in grade school for dodge ball, but it was abundantly obvious at the time that the reason was how fat I was in 4th grade. Chosen One has a much better ring to it than One Who Is Hidden Behind. My girth and leg braces did not improve my dodge ball prowess, let me assure you. Miss Rose I hope the previous paragraph will convince you I know a thing or two about the ragging and the harassments. I was ragged by the soda jerk, the butcher, my father’s Girl Friday, the head of the local stevedore union, one of the more prominent hobos, a cotton merchant, the discoverer of two-sided tape, the deaf girl who was in charge of randomly selecting the winning lottery numbers for the state lottery, a man whose face had been burned in an otherwise wholly avoidable firework accident, various yes men, a sword swallower with a persistent hacking cough, and future governor Jesse Ventura. A diverse group of Americans had a low opinion of me, is what I’m trying to say. So naturally I turned to termite control as a trade. Termites are fascinating creatures, and in time I came to accultruate myself to their ways. I learned their phermonal language and bred with their women. They came to trust me in their own mute way, and when I felt I had their elders lulled into a false sense of security I would spray my chemicals and kill them all. This process took one and a half afternoons, Rose. My bosses were not thrilled but they couldn’t argue with my results: demoralized and one hundred percent dead termites. Don’t worry about any inconveniences your mail might cause me. It’s easy enough to sort through my stacks and stacks of letters from the dead letter room at the post office and find your letter after I print it off my internet machine and inevitably loose it among the clutter and detritus of my shack. That’s right Rose, a shack. I live in a shack, Theodore J. Kaczynski-style. My property taxes are a bear, though, since my lot in Orlando, Florida is in a rather nice part of town. My neighbors are beginning to realize that I’m not going to be “developing” the lot any time soon, Rose. They are not happy about it, and they’ve sent Animal Control by several times to “ask” about the dozens of cats I have living with me. “Too late, they’re already the beneficiaries of my will, you can’t kick them out” I’d say to the Animal Control officer. They were definitely annoyed by the legal loophole I’d created. Rose, I…I ate the cats when they died. I could tell that’s what they wanted, dying within easy reach of my George Foreman grill like they did. I mean, how obvious can a cat be about wanting to be panini pressed after it died? Rose, I am all about actualizing this project. I’ve got some questions about the arrangements I would need to make to get you to American to continue your education, though. For instance, is the cry of an orphan any different from the cry of a child with only one dead parent? How attractive are you, as far as underage girls go? Are we talking like Natalie Portman in The Professional hot, or merely Cindy Brady cute? This is important to others, not…not me ha ha. I just want to know I’m betting on a winner, Rose. Hot girls are like perpetual motion machines: they exist to be what they are, and no one can figure out how to make one. We can determine how to make you hotter later, the important thing now I’d say is to give you all my personal information so you can get this money into my Bank of America account. I burned my Social Security card when I finally got my Kroger card, so I don’t have that information in front of me, but my driver’s license is TU4235522, issuing state Puerto Rico. I am four feet eleven inches, shoe size boy’s 12. My suits are from Banana Republic, since I have been blackmailing their CFO for six years. That was one of my better brainstorms, given that most of my brainstorms result in nose bleeds and ear wax buildup. I am of mixed ethnicity: my mother was Scottish and my father was Welsh. I hope that’s enough information, let me know if you need to know my cup size. (Here’s a hint: I’ve used a paper ketchup cup from Wendy’s as a cup in the past. [Yesterday.]) Help The Cats Have Become Agitated, Alford Tigh Colmnner |
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