Avant garde, no?

Dear Paul,

One time, my parents sent me to Moon Base Morlock - the Prison Base. I hated it there. There was no oxygen at all, and all of the other Moon Prisoners would tease me. "Hey Julius Nickelberry," they would scream into my face, covering my nose with their prison spittle. Which is just ridiculous, because my name wasn't Julius Nickelberry at the time, it was Horatio Alger, and I used to write these stories about people living out the American Dream, until that hack George Washington challenged me to a bare-knuckle boxing match. How was I to know that his hands were made out of titanium? So, we tussled a bit, and then he knocked me down. It looked like I was going to be out for the count, but somehow (foolishly) I pulled myself to my feet (a complicated system of pulleys and intestines)... George was about to finnish me, but then he realised that Finland wasn't to be founded for another 2000 years. Anyway, he pulled his fist back, but then he saw the expression on my face - I looked so sad, he could see the despair in my eyes. Then his resolve hardened - after all, the fate of the free world rested on the result of this fight. But then Jesus called from the crowd, "Dude! You can't punch him! He's absolutely covered in avacado. From head to toe. It'd be like sinmuch." Because that was when Jesus was in his Valley-Girl/Hannibal the Cannibal phase. What a fruity character.

George realized that Jesus (who was now snacking on some crispy fried human flesh) was right, so he picked me up, and propped me against an old propane tank (Old Man McGillie's Old Time Propane Co. - "For Propane Gas, and So Much More... the Ones to See are Old Man McGillie's Old Time Propane Co.) that we pulled out of the dam, back when we were kids, when we were friends... BEFORE THIS BLOODY CIVIL WAR TORE US APART. Oh, War, foul maiden of darkness and despair, have you no compassion for we few brave men, Horatio and George, friends no rhubarb. A tear slipped from my eye - somewhere in all the punching, I had ruptured a tear duct. In actual fact, I was burning with rage, anger and some sort of combination of the two that I call rangere. But I was weak with pain and titanium-allergies, and couldn't muster the strength to lift my hand and fashion some sort of Shiv out of a toothbrush... George saw the tear, and thought that it was all over. He hugged my limp body, breaking several ribs. Oh, it's far from over, George. He found that out the hard way, 10 years later.

He was on his way home from a late lecture, and decided to take a shortcut through a dark back alley. Walking through the alley, he thought he heard something behind him...a garbage can rattled. He spun around. There was nothing there... Probably just a rat, he thought. He turned back to continue walking, but a shadow blocked his path - me.

"Campbell!" he gasped, shocked and otherwise surprised to see me standing there.

"George. Next time you try and kill someone, you better make sure they're really dead."

"But... but... I spared you!" he lied, trying to save his own hide.

"But... but... I spared you!" I repeated back at him, but in a little whiny girl voice, as if to imply that he was a little whiny girl. Then I took my hand out of my pocket to reveal...

"Green Kryptonite!" gasped Washington, "My one weakness... apart from Red, Gold and Blue Kryptonite... although, one of those doesn't actually hurt me, but kills monsters from Bizarro World."

"Too true, Old Friend," I screamed, spraying him with my Earth Spittle, and now... it's time for you to do your death dance.

Relunctantly, he began to do a little jig. "Faster," I screamed. "Dance as if nobody is watching! Even though I am watching. And probably streaming this over the internet, so that everyone may see how their supposed "hero" dies." Then I laughed. A LOT! But I've become distracted... back to what we were talking about:

Oh, I'm sorry, did I say rhubarb, I meant to say rhubarb pie. That is, a pie made out of rhubarb. In fact, I wrote a song about rhubarb. You can sing it to the tune of that song by Queen, you know that one that goes, "I'm a rocketship on the way to mars, on a collision course, about to explode..." and then later it goes, "And that's why they call me Mr. Farenheit... I'm travelling at the speed of light."

Here it is. Keep in mind, of course, that it's a work in progress.

Rhuuubarb... Oh, how red you are.

Rbuuubarb... Your stem is kind of green, though.

I'm el rocket shiiipp... on el way to marrrsss.

On el collision course... rhuuubarb, amiiiggoooo.

Is it too soon to whisper Spanish Grammy? The Hispanic Music Market basically missed out on Steve McQueen, so they probably won't notice how much of it I ripped off. I'll be rolling in pesos and traditional mexican dishes such as that Pueblo slow roasted pork stuff by the end of the day. Not to mention the Senoritas! woahwoahWOAH! Hold the phone, Victoria!

Suddenly, a crack of light appeared from above, and it became clear that this darkened room I was imprisoned in was actually a reverse-attic. On Moon Base Morlock, it's hard to tell up-from down, so all of the attics are deep underground.

In floated a squat man in a trenchcoat. He opened his mouth to speak, but with no atmosphere, all he could produce was a light squeaking that sounded kind of like that old Bob Dylan song. You know the one I mean. About how to get flat abs fast?

"How maaaaany belly rolls, must a man belly roll... before hissss aaaabbbbs are flaaat?

How maaaaaany tummy curls, must a man tummy curl.... before hisssss abbbbbbs are flaaaaa-oooohhhohh?

And how many cross crunches, must a man crrrooosss crunch, before he's allowed to say, "Flat abs, that's me."

And how many tailbone lifts, must the white dove lift, before it's abs are flaaaaat?

And hoooooww many inverted crunches, must a.. etc.

You know the one?

I said to him (wearing my space helmet, and thus able to articulate my thoughts out loud), "Dude, I keep on telling you, Johnny's in the basement, mixing up the medicine. This is the reverse attic. Remember, we're on the moon."

"heeblegeeblewhisperdee" he gasped, slowly turning blue. Then he exploded into a kaleidoscope of light... everything in the reverse attic started to be pulled in by his new uber-strong gravitational pull... INCLUDING ME.

"Here we go again," I sighed.