First comes this email from someone calling himself "The Unnecessarian":
To improve the coherence of the following text, it would be best if you read it aloud in a British accent.
'"Why nice to meet you Mr. Bosch. I suppose I'll call you pseudopod to adopt a more familiar tone.
You are informed as to the meaning of the word, I presume?
Let us get right to the point then, shall we?
I am contacting you via rather...unorthodox methods. In my day, it was considered compulsory, of peremptory importance even, to achieve correspondence
through the use of plain paper and ink.
The reason of this act of Noblesse Oblige(I seldom consider stooping so low as to use an electronic mailing system) is that, in all honesty, I wished to give you
fair warning.
I recently acknowledged the existence of your book series from my son, whose name will not be mentioned here. He seems fairly enamored with your books,
and goes gallavanting around with a camera, recording various images of complete strangers.
Why, the other day, he vanished in Harrods while the family was embarked on a shopping excursion. I was becoming quite anxious when
I suddenly observed him snapping photographs of one of the pianists in the shopping center.
He seemed utterly intrigued by the gentleman's white felt gloves.
This message is intended, not as criticism, nor as a rebuke.
It is meant simply as a warning.
Our company has survived the American Revolution, the Industrial Revolution, the Age of Imperialism, and both World Wars.
We here hold high standards and high expectations for our place in the global position.
In the new future, we are determined to survive the oncoming storm of commercial unrest.
However, for this to happen, we need people like you to cease your incessant indoctrination.
I give little regard to this "Terces Society" or this "Midnight Sun" religious cult, when the future of
a Peaceful and Happy world is at stake.
Our company will succeed in our mission to better the world, unhindered by people like you,
who attempt to spread unrest and rebelliousness in the youth of today.
Sincerely,
The Unnecessarian.
Then comes the following. Hm. Whom to believe?
My dearest apologies, Mr. Bosch.
It has come to my attention that my overprotective brother has contacted you regarding my recent obsession with your books.
It is entirely untrue that my brother is my father(my mother and father committed a romantic double-suicide right after I was born)
It is also untrue that he is the CEO of a huge corporation(although it is true that we are the sole heirs of a blood-sugar measuring device manufacturing company in Virginia)
In addition, we don't live in Britain.
You can ignore him.
Anyways, this is my timecard for the fourth book:
Time Card: More of a long boring list, in my case.
00:00 I Immediately scan the bus for members of the Xxxxxxx Xxxxx High School Girl’s Lacrosse, Cheerleading, or Girl’s Water Polo teams. (They are easy to spot due to their bright pink hooded sweatshirts)
00:04 I Confiscate said sweatshirt and wear it over my regular jacket, pulling the pink hood over my face. A certain book is in the front pocket of my jacket, making me look like a normal kid with a slight potbelly.
00:20 I daresay the Midnight Sun members deserve to be “pancaked” by a beautiful yellow school bus. However, I decide that it would be best not to take the wheel of the bus and gleefully plow through the horde of glove-wearing adults.
00:24 I somehow refrain from smashing a window to make a dramatic escape.
00:30 I attempt to open the bus roof exit.
00:35 I fail.
00:50 I Tell the bus driver that I have a “domestic emergency” and must exit the bus immediately.
01:20 The bus driver rudely ignores me.
01:40 I pretend to spot “Xxxxxx Xxxxxxxxxx” (Some handsome, rich, young celebrity) outside on the sidewalk, and loudly announce his presence. (This is, obviously, a lie and an escape plot)
01:40:01 Then, I blend in to the resulting stampede of screaming teenagers pouring out of the bus doors, being sure to make the appropriate squeals and shrieks characteristic of an adolescent female.
01:40:02 I “Borrow” around $40 in the midst of the chaos, and leave my backpack beneath a bus seat(I highly doubt that I need Calculus and AP Biology textbooks to survive the Midnight Sun).
01:58 Once safely on the sidewalk, I begin running toward the nearest Barnes and Noble (There is one with a café between my house and school).
01:59 I refrain from running atop the stopped cars, jumping from vehicle to vehicle like I’m playing some illegal game of “Lava Monster”.
07:30 I arrive at Barnes and Noble.
08:20 I hide in a Barnes and Noble bathroom stall, where I make noises similar to those of someone who has eaten one bowl of chili too many, where in reality, I am ripping out the pages of a certain book, one by one, and flushing them down the toilet.
10:30 I wash my hands thoroughly (There are all sorts of interesting germs in bathroom stalls) and throw the pink hooded sweatshirt in the trash can. I cover up the hoodie with enough paper towels to completely conceal it. (Trees are collateral damage for my survival)
11:17 I exit the bathroom, empty handed except for the forty dollars, which I will use to buy the fifth book of a certain series, a home improvement magazine to disguise said book, a large gingerbread latte, and taxi fare to a two star motel ten miles away.
Any excuse to skip school and lay low for a few days is greatly appreciated.
In the event that I am confronted by the Midnight Sun, I am Tijah Moototake, an exchange student from Kyushu who aspires to be a hydroponic engineer when he grows up. He also speaks no English.
In the event that I am asked about The Secret, I will confess that yes, they have found me out; I have had a secret crush on Lillian Vanderworth in my fifth period Biology class for the past two days.
Sincerely,
The Peremptorian
Happy Thanksgiving to all! Quiche sends his regards as well. He's busy in the kitchen. Something about carrots being the new yams...
