The Providers – Letter 2

B-Fuckin-Ill,

If you’ve got 2 peacocks, bring ‘em out round the yard and teach ‘em how to dance!

Do you even know what that means? Probably not because you’re too busy BEING LAME.

Man, we are from THE FUTURE. We are here to totally HARASS YOU via the Postal Service!

That’s right. It’s super-antiquated in our era. People only really use it to splice through time itself and send people junk mail and bullshit pranks. Where do you think all those stupid letters come from that promise you credit cards, discounted insurance, and larger penises? The effin’ future, that’s where.

Do we have a bigger purpose, you ask your STUPID self?!?!?! I will answer you with a whispered “perhaps.”

Dude, it’s like this: I just dropped some mad flim on some honey chilies.

You stupid past assholes don’t even understand how AWESOME that is. That means I just bought myself some great socks. In the future, we call socks “chilies.” Why? Because we are so much better than you and can do whatever we want!

MUWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

So, you got a letter from Dom. That is not my name. My name is Greg. Both of us want you to shut the hell up, break up with anyone you’re currently going out with, and focus all of your time on us.

Oh, and bran. Buy a whole truck-fuckin’ lot of bran. Eat that shit. Love that shit. And write letters to your government about the importance of bran and bran research & development.

I will leave you with some lovely words from the greatest non-presidential vocalist of your generation: Mr. John Travolta

Look at the rain and look at the stars tonight
All fallin´ down on me
See them tumble through my door
I look at your face
The light is in your eyes
And there´s something there I need
I long to hold a little more

FUCK YOU,

– Greg

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The Providers – Letter 6

Bill,

Ok, so after extensive research, we have concluded that given your 2010 abundance of canaries, it would be best for us to acquire them through you.

Since we were laid off, we don’t currently have any money to buy canaries to run our cars on. So, we want you to create an area in the “Time Hiding Zone” that we will now call the “Suspended Animation Chamber.” I think the only method of Suspended Animation you’ve got is cryonics, so…freeze them really good or something.

Thanks in advance, man. This will help while we try to fight the powers that be to get our jobs back at the Bran Factory. See, there are no unemployment benefits in our time, only “reverse benefits.” This is a clever name for PUNISHMENT dished out if you don’t get a job fast enough. Dom and I are on level 3 right now. This means that each morning the government plays the audio track from every episode of the television show Joey into the cellular phone implants in our ears. We are not sure how much longer we can last. We are desperate men.

This is why it is so crucially important that if you don’t have a Fringclaxitor in your time, you “invent” one by buying all the Bran and Bran Products you can from every nearby local store, and storing them along with Farmers’ Almanacs in the “Time Hiding Zone.” This will allow Dom and I to have access to “True Bran.” This is the name given to Bran from before The Great Branning of 2087.

Once acquired, we hope to drive the True Bran up to Bran headquarters (once we get those canaries running our cars) and show that we will now be able to farm True Bran again thanks to our genius ways. Then we can be hired back to our old jobs and request that our old buddy Pablo come with us. Get the whole Bran Innovation Team back together!

It’s like I’ve been saying: if you’ve got 2 peacocks, bring ’em round the yard and teach ’em how to dance. The Bran Overloards are the peacocks, and we will teach them to dance the dance of re-employment!

Long story short: freeze some canaries and put them under the deli. Thx.

– Greg

The Providers – Letter 8

Bill,

Well, it nearly killed us, but we got the canaries from Pablo. Holy codfish, he did not want to give those up! But luckily, after an intense struggle, we were able to knock him out with a rag soaked in ether. He did mention murdering us in the future, which was a bit unsettling — especially because neither Dom or I had lunch yet. Getting news of our imminent death on an empty stomach just made the afternoon all the worse. If they’re out of Calamari Fritters at the pub, I may LOSE IT!

I’m just glad you’re helping us out from the past by doing all those small tasks that end up having such a profound impact on our future. If you never read Dom’s last letter and took care of what he asked you, I’d never have attempted the canary-theft. It’d be a suicide mission. But since you obviously did, now we can reap the benefits!

By now, you probably have the last few Farmer’s Almanacs necessary to set up your Fringclaxitor. If you haven’t yet, PLEASE DO! It’s crucial you have it set up in case anything goes wrong. I mean, it’s extremely doubtful something will, but better safe than sorry. Dom said the chances of him having to write asking you to activate the Fringclaxitor are around the same as you winning a few lotteries. Psssh.

Oh, that reminds me, I decided to give you a bit of a gift for helping us out. I looked up the info, and below are the winning lottery numbers in your area for tomorrow’s drawing. May as well get something out of the deal!

Ultra Millions
6, 24, 28, 38, 51
UltraBall: 38

StrongBall
12, 22, 41, 44, 57
StrongBall: 24

Rad Million
4, 8, 14, 22, 28, 36

Our next, and final task for you involves all those cans of tuna-fish, bricks of cheddar cheese, and fresh-baked rolls you stole: please make around 200 Tuna Melts and bring them to the nearest homeless shelter and feed everyone you see. This seemingly POINTLESS task will end up benefiting us, don’t worry. I’m not just asking you to help others in need for no good reason.

By feeding those particular homeless individuals, you will set forth a wave of goodwill that will cause Dom and I to be able to get our jobs at the Bran Factory back! They called us mad for our inventions, and said we’d never work in the Bran Industry again. But after you give tuna melts to some hobos, they’ll reconsider and allow us back in. Perfect and logical.

Then we can unleash the Stealthometer onto a public in dire need of its services! I mean, its how we know what past events have made crucial impacts on the future. It’s what’s enabling us to re-direct our misfortunes and stealthily get them back in the fast lane. Why they’d call us crazy I’ll never know.

Anyway, I’ll let you go make some tuna melts. Talk to you soon, past buddy!

– Greg

Political Party Animals – Letter 6

Ms. Markowitz,

Ok, so I’ve resulted to Plan B since you took the “high road” and alerted parents of my plan to try to get Dorland County’s children to willingly work in your wicker basket factories in hopes of raising a generation who share my life-long love for abolishing all labor laws and bringing back the 19th century industrialism.

Plan B is that I’ve been hanging out with teenagers.

Hear me out: everyone knows that children and teens alike are highly gullible (I’m not too sure about tweens. Not enough market research has been done in this area, save to determine that vampires are sexy). I will utilize this gullibility by presenting myself as Stryker PecsNabs: a cooler-than-cool teen who wandered into Dorland County and will be expressing his unique pro-industrialist ideals frequently and LOUDLY.

Who knows, maybe I’ll even throw in some vampire lore if anyone age 11-13 is nearby.

Having to shave my “Tycoon’s-Mustache” was heartbreaking; but I am hoping that “Stryker’s” views on how cool it is to work in factories and make the rich richer and the poor poorer will trickle down from seniors to kindergartners, creating a unstoppable fire inside the youth of this county. A fire that can never be put out, but only contained within the walls of a wicker basket factory.

But, unlike a REAL fire in a wicker basket factory, this will not produce horribly disastrous results. Children, tweens and teens will be happy. Parents will want to work alongside their children, thereby creating ADDITIONAL PROFITS. The wealthy industrialist who owns the wicker basket factory will invite me over for dinner (I’m assuming he or she is a wealthy industrialist. Otherwise I’ve no idea how they became owner of a factory). At dinner we will discuss my candidacy for presidency. They will be so moved by my obvious do-goodery that they will want to throw all of their silver dollars my way in support of my campaign.

I then will tell them that I should probably be in an elected office before running. They will use their power to overthrow you as PTA President of the Dorland County School District, and place me in the throne. This will make my bill for presidency stronger while proving to you that I can beat you in the political arena. Two birds with one wealthy stone.

Oh, and I read your threat of having “wrote the book” on the dirty politics game. Let’s see what you got, Ms. PTA-President-for-14-Years-Goody-Goody-Two-Shoes.

Stryker Out!

– Rupert Hornsby