Dear Madame Mercedes,

I thought of something really funny last night about ten seconds after I sent you my last e-mail. But I figured I'd send it today along with another very long e-mail. The only problem is that I've forgotten what it is! Oh, well. I'm sure it wasn't too important, anyway. I have a few months to remember what it was, too. I'm assuming that since you're going out on tour, you won't be checking your e-mail for a while. So this is going to be sitting in your box for months and months and months, like a loyal puppy. A loyal puppy that would poo on you while you sleep, sure. But a loyal puppy, nonetheless. Ah! Nothing like starting the day with a poo joke! Poo poo! Poo on you!! Poo poo!!! Pooooooo ooooooonnn yooooouuu!!! Poo poo on poo poo you!!! Poo on you you!!! Poo in the zoo on you! Blue poo on new you!! Poo!

Oh! Now I remember the real purpose of this e-mail! It wasn't to tell you the joke but to say that I'm amazed that you like the Monkees. Anyone who likes the Monkees is elevated to near-God-like status in my book. And my book has dancing bananas in it. Hundreds and hundreds of them! They all wear the same colored pajamas, too. So there's hundreds of bananas that look the same doing the same dance in my book. Pictures of them, too. Pages and pages of dancing bananas in pajamas! And you, along with my other gods, rule over them. Be a merciful god, Mercedes. Do not smite them if they anger you, for they know not what they do. They are humble bananas. They ask for nothing more than a good beat to shake their groove thangs to. Tacos would be nice, too, but only if you feel like it. Just kidding. I only wanted to make those three sentences begin with the letter "t." And I did it! So, yeah, I think it's cool that you dig the Monkees. Whoa! I just noticed this entire paragraph deals with Monkees and >gasp< bananas! What irony! Two semi-related subjects? And fragment sentences! Oh, no! Sentences that begin with "and!" This paragraph is evil. And not in the good Kittie way, either. It's evil in the "i just told you the ending to a movie you wanted to see" way.

Speaking of which, you should see the movie "Chicken Run," if you haven't done so yet. It's a really, really good movie. I started this new paragraph because "Chicken Run" doesn't deserve to be in an evil paragraph. It's that good! Hey, that's got a double meaning. "It's that good!" Sorry. I'm much better at writing e-mails when it's 3:00 in the morning. I'm not used to this 10:45 in the morning crap. Bah! Stupid morning! I shake my fist in anger at you!

Yay! You're going to be on Farm Club! Well, I'm going to be there. I'll be watching you. Staring at you. Stalking you. And doing other weird, creepy things. Creepy, creepy, creepy. That word is too cute to mean something negative. Like spooky. I'm not understanding the logic behind these words.

"Hey, fellow caveman, as long as we're inventing the English language, let's create two words that sound really cute but mean bad things!"
"But why?"
"We'll let our progeny figure it out. Ha ha ha! They won't have a clue! They'll be trying to figure it out and we'll be laughing at them! Ha ha ha! Stupid grandchildren! You eat poo! Poo poo!!! Poo poo on you!!! Pooooooo ooooooonnn yooooouuu!!! Poo poo on poo poo you!!! Poo on you you!!!"

And then they laughed at us. For hours. The bastards! I'd like to shove my evolved foot up their primitive bottoms! Grrr. So, yeah, I'll be in the audience at the Farm Club thing. I'll be no more than twenty feet away from you. And you'll never know! Scary, no? ARGH! There's another word! Scary!!!!

"Hey, fellow caveman, as long as we're inventing the English language, let's create THREE words that sound really cute but mean bad things!"
"But why?"
"We'll let our progeny figure it out. Ha ha ha! They won't have a clue! They'll be trying to figure it out and we'll be laughing at them! Ha ha ha! Stupid grandchildren! You eat poo! Poo poo!!! Poo poo on you!!! Pooooooo ooooooonnn yooooouuu!!! Poo poo on poo poo you!!! Poo on you you!!!"

There. That's better. Those wacky cavemen. I wish today's society was more like them. Well, just in the hunting and gathering department. It's a shame that we can't hunt our food any more. I'd have tons of fun stalking, tracking, and ultimately killing my meals. I would wait above a door and, when the timing is right, I would pounce like the mighty lion and slay the elusive Twix bar with my bare hands! The cheeseburger is fat and slow. And I am fast and swift! Grah! I would stab it with my hunting fork, hold it proudly in the air, and let out a jungle scream that would strike fear into the heart of even the mighty Cheeto! Or not. Yeah, that was a bit too silly. It might have been funny at first, but I started milking it to death. And you know what? I don't care! I would entrap the peanut butter sandwich and drag it's head through the streets as a trophy! I would shoot down the graceful milk carton and drink it's blood! I am king of all food products!! King, I tell you!!! KING of them ALL!!! Except for the bananas. They would slap me down and make me their bitch.

I just noticed that in every magazine that has a picture of Kittie, you're always on the far right. The other girls switch places, but you're ALWAYS on the right. Which is really neat. Keep it up! Well, I'm going to go watch the bananas dance some more. You rock. You roll. And you do other neat things that rhyme with "roll."

Dances like a Backstreet Boy,
-Trent