If you’re reading this letter, I have departed on a long space mission and will not be back for at least six trillion years. It has been nice knowing you. The person who looks like Jimmy that is sitting in class RIGHT NOW (without any shoes on) is not the real Jimmy. He’s an alien. Don’t ask him why he is not wearing shoes. It is NOT because he was wearing an amazing unicorn head on the way to school (even though his mum told him not to because he couldn’t see properly and was bumping into stuff) and accidentally stepped in baby sloth poo (or worse). It is NOT because the baby sloth poo smelled so bad that he had to leave his shoes behind a tree and continue to school barefoot. Don’t ask THAT Jimmy what happened to the amazing unicorn head that he and his dad spent so long making. Don’t ask THAT Jimmy if he took off the unicorn head when he was trying unsuccessfully to clean his shoes. It was NOT snatched up by an aggressive wild boar (or small brown dog) who tried to pull the glasses off Professor Unicorn because they were made of meat sticks twisted to look like awesome professor glasses. Don’t ask if THAT Jimmy would have totally caught the wild boar if he’d been wearing his shoes but didn’t because the grass was full of poisonous prickles. Don’t ask if the worst bit was that Clarissa Spatts in 1st Grade saw the whole thing which was NOT extremely embarrassing.
The Jimmy you see in class RIGHT NOW that looks exactly like the old Jimmy is NOT Jimmy. He is an alien. He doesn’t even speak Earth. He speaks a strange alien language that is just blinking, so don’t talk to him unless you are fluent in blinking … which you are not. That Jimmy will not be able to help you win the Book Parade as Professor Unicorn.
I will remember my time on earth fondly. I wish you well. Goodbye.
Yours regretfully,
Jimmy Cook