From the desk of Mr. Harold Hinkler, 5th grade teacher, Opa-Locka Elementary:
Dear Dr. Monster,
This is in regards to the behavior of your son Lucifer (AKA Lucky) in my class. To put it bluntly, the other kids are terrified of him. After losing the class president election to Billy Balantine, Lucky seized power in a violent coup. I’m pretty sure the type of wedgie inflicted on poor Billy is outlawed by the Geneva Convention. He may never pee standing up again. When Lucky learned about all the extra work required of him as class president, he imposed his chores on the class, including myself, under punishment of torture. I don’t know how many more electro-shocks my testicles can withstand!
At the last Show and Tell (meaning the final Show and Tell, because the district school board has since banned it as a result) young Lucky demonstrated your newly developed Disintegration Ray. On his fellow students. By the way, it only took the parents a week to realize you’d replaced their kids with water clones. They dissolved in the rainstorms of Hurricane Jeremy, which scientists believe to be the result of your quest to “prove Al Gore right” about global warming.
In science class, using various chemicals, Lucky created a pan-dimensional portal, unleashing an onslaught of DOOM-like hell beasts on my classroom. I’d really appreciate it if you’d come and seal the portal. My makeshift barricade of spare desks and textbooks doesn’t seem to be working. And the constant attacks by giant man-eating arachnids are distracting my students from learning.
The other staff at Opa-Locka Elementary pretty much let Lucky do whatever he wants out of fear. When I stood up to him he shot me with something called a “Paralyzer Death Ray.” Do you have any idea how hard it is to teach a class of brain-dead water clones when you can only communicate through a series of blinks?! You can rest assured I won’t press any charges since I’ve regained most bodily functions. However, it’d be nice if you could at least pay to replace my colostomy bag. It has a huge gaping hole burned into it from the last time a giant spider spit acid at me.
I feel I say this with some authority when I state that Lucky’s anti-social behavior may be the result of bad parenting. After all, I did take an elective course on psychology at Opa-Locka Community College. Not to incur your unholy wrath—dear God that’s the last thing I’d want— but you haven’t exactly been the greatest role model to your youngin’.
Opa-Locka just hasn’t been the same ever since your flying mountain fortress touched down in the outskirts of our fair community. Especially since the impact force of the mountain’s landing triggered an earthquake that leveled half the town. You immediately declared your mountain its own sovereign nation with you serving as supreme chancellor and ambassador, granting you diplomatic immunity to commit your
unspeakable atrocities.
When the US military threatened your sovereignty, did you really have to use nukes? They only sent a few tanks and light infantry. Just a tad overkill methinks. We really don’t appreciate the fallout. It made all the milk taste funny and it ruined the town’s annual Peek-A-Tweet Bird Watching Festival. But strangely enough, it completely eliminated the town’s homeless problem.
Truth be told, this town already has a megalomaniacal mad scientist plotting our doom from his precipice-laden lair—the venerable Artemis Webster.
Opa-Locka has a long and proud tradition of being terrorized by his murderous machinations. I met my dear wife Milly in the trauma ward after Webster’s infamous “Tides of March” tsunami in ’98. The disaster rendered her a paraplegic and therefore unattractive to her usual alpha male suitors—but it also made that former hottie-turned-damaged-goods totally within my league! Thank you, Artemis Webster, for initiating my sex life!
Webster was here first. Go find yourself another town. Artemis Webster may be a despicable homicidal misanthrope but he’s OUR despicable homicidal misanthrope. This town isn’t big enough for two. No, seriously. Your turf war has increased the town’s mortality rate by 40%.
I seem to have gone off-topic, but then again decreased mental capacity was one of the side effects of the Paralyzer Ray.
To make a long story less long, I’ve given up on trying to teach your young hellion of an offspring of a son. I recommend home school, private school, reform school, military school, prison school, clown school or any other school at which I am not employed. It would be the best thing for my class, my school, and most importantly, my testicles.
Best regards,
Mr. Hinkler
P.S. Are you ever going to release the hostages you took during your war of independence/nuclear holocaust? I’d really like to see my wife again some day. The town would really like its women back. Surely you don’t need THAT many concubines?
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