To: condorboy
Date: Tuesday, February 14—2:07 AM
Subject: SLUGS!
Connor,
I just had the best idea! Seriously, in my short life full of brilliant ideas, this one is up there, the top of the top, the cream of the crop. Which brings up the important question: What does “cream of the crop” actually mean? What do crops have to do with cream, or any dairy product, for that matter? This is assuming “crop” refers to some kind of plant material. The only other definition I can think of is riding crop, but that makes even less sense. I suppose I could look it up, but I don’t have time for that right now.
I have found us a mission, and if you’re brave enough to take it—well, let’s just say you’d have bragging material for the rest of your life. You know the radio station KUTE? “Ninety-six point three—The Way You Wanna Be”? What idiot marketing person came up with that slogan? “The Way You Wanna Be”? Couldn’t they think of anything better to rhyme with “three”? What about “please”? That kind of rhymes. Ninety-six point three—Give Us Money, Please. Or Ninety-six point three—Rich White People Ski. The possibilities are endless.
I know you must have heard of that big stupid concert they’re putting on this weekend, the “Escape to Winter Wonderland” pop music barf-fest, with an impressive lineup of scantily-clad anorexics with boob jobs who can’t even sing, committing the crime of spreading poisonous music throughout western Washington. We cannot stand for this! Something must be done! That is why I am calling for your help. Musical integrity needs us. The taste of our generation needs us. We can’t let them down. We cannot pass up this opportunity to show the world our ninja skills. Hear that, Connor? You are a NINJA! Don’t you dare forget it. The world needs its ninjas desperately. We are a dying breed. Better yet, we are ninjas with a very special knowledge of slugs and other things slimy. You can do a lot of damage with a slug. Imagine those little top-heavy pop kittens getting a face full of slugs. Imagine the chaos that would ensue. There’d be a riot. The riot would turn into a revolution. The revolution would turn into us TAKING OVER THE WORLD.
This is the plan: I come over to Bainbridge and we get all of your mom’s reusable hemp grocery bags or whatever, then spend the whole day scouring the woods for slugs. They can survive in a bag overnight, can’t they? We’ll spray them with water and throw in some croutons or something. We’ll have an arsenal of ten or so bags full of slugs. People talk about biological warfare. Well, THIS IS BIOLOGICAL WARFARE. We’ll get backstage somehow, using our ninja skills of deception, and we’ll find the place where all the costumes are kept. Shoes are an excellent place to hide slugs, Connor. Stuffed inside the legs of pantyhose. Tucked in between the folds of various garments. Nestled in the cups of their oversize bras. In hats and sleeves and legs and every single nook and cranny they could possibly poke their teensy-weensy emaciated body parts into. In their purses and makeup bags and anywhere else slugs can hide. And IN THEIR FREAKING WATER BOTTLES. Those bitches will lose their minds.
So are you with me or ARE YOU WITH ME?
ONWARD!
Iz