 Dear all you money-grubbing, arrogant, psychophantic, empty, scold-lying, poorly animated ass-lickers, especially Freddy fucking Backstabbing Judas Fox and Kenny never worked a day in a sexless life crow. Well, you've finally done it. Great job. You broke me. You broke me enough to bash down my door until this piece of paper turned up in my bed. I'd give you the if-you-reading-ness I'm-dead-bidness and say my tearful goodbyes to you hateful sons-of-bitches, but what would you say to that? Daaah. Why is he still using a typewriter in 2016? Pattie needs to give up on letter writing. It's even worse than the shitty cartoon acting. I mean, it's not like I'd do any better if I tried twice as hard as Pattie has been trying all of his life, but I'm gonna go ahead and make Pattie's life a dick in the garbage disposal party because I'm about as smart as a Dixie-Cut full of Gatorade. You can all go fuck yourselves forever and ever. Don't worry about revenge. I'm gonna let you live your sugar-coated plastic imitation cheddar lifespan as long as you want, being the grease-drenched toxic gorilla rabies shitstains you are. That's more than enough punishment. I wouldn't wish it on Hitler, or even Super Hitler. There is someone I'm gonna completely fuck up before I stick a remington up my nose, but unlike you, they're a smart enemy. They're a patient enemy. They're an enemy that doesn't lie through their teeth and call me their friend. They're the ones that call us SCP-2835. Want to know more about that? I fucked your mom. I want you to die scared and alone and find yourselves in the pitch-dark corner of hell reserved for weaklings. I'll be the first one to shit caustic misery down your throat. I will torture you in ways I hadn't even been invented yet. I will piss on your graves, around your graves, in your graves, and in your coffins until your skeleton is the fucking piss pickle. You will gargle your screams through your boiling entrails until the last star goes black and all the universe is cold and quiet. And before I forget, reap what you sow, reap what you sow, reap what you sow, reap what you sow, reap what you sow, reap what you sow, reap what you sow, reap what you sow, reap what… The typewriter keys fell silent, with a shaking wing. Patty Pelton took a long dream from his red solo cup of premixed margarita, surrounded by the failed drafts of his note on his desk. He wiped a tear from his drooping eye, recalling a coaching session from his animator. What the fuck are you doing, Patty? Are you fucking crying? I'm sorry, Mr. Singer, you're just shouting at me and… You don't fucking cry in the cartoon business. Why not? Because I have no idea how to draw a crying pelican. Patty closed his eyes. He grabbed the duffel bag from under his broken bed frame. Two shotguns peaked out from the open zipper. He sighed. He wouldn't cry. He wouldn't bluff. He wouldn't ask how he was doing. For the first time in his life, Patty, the Afrastus pelican, would make good on his threats. Is that like the castle you work at, Daddy? Lyle Nicemus, a wolf from his nap on his couch at a six-year-old daughter, Penny, pointed to the TV, the interior of a gigantic animated castle filled the screen. Oh, did Mom put in Sleeping Beauty? His daughter nodded. Right. Well, our castle at least three times that big. We're usually so full of kid-eating trolls that you can't see the ceiling. When your kid had an imagination, it was easier than usual to keep your job at the Foundation's site director a secret. Lyle's eyes closed again as Maleficent came into the hall to cast her famous spinning wheel-curse. His tension faded away amidst the sounds of bickering fairies, shocked soldiers, evil magic, a cocking shotgun, a firing shotgun. There were no shotguns in Sleeping Beauty. Lyle opened his eyes as red splatters colored the walls of King Stefan's palace. Horrified attendees of Aurora's christening ran for the doors. What the devil is going on, said Maleficent, turning her attention away from the king and queen who hadn't invited her. You can kill whoever you want after I'm done here, you meddlesome. In a flash of buckshot, Maleficent's job became a red cloud. From the left side of the screen, a black-and-white pelican, drawn with significantly less effort than the rest of the cast, let out a drunken laugh as he mowed down in the cask. 2835, Lyle was on his feet in an instant. As the pelican jammed the smoking barrel into the mouth of the young princess, he stared into Lyle's terrified eyes. Nye Smith, he shrieked, REAP WHAT YOU? Lyle punched the eject button on the DVD player. Penny stared at the TV with pursed lips, not frightened, but she hadn't blinked once throughout the scene. Sleeping Beauty is a really weird movie, she said. I'm sorry you saw that, said Lyle. Penny shrugged. It's a lot better than that clown show.