SANDMAN'S FAN MAIL (Humor?)
By SNERSH
A certain "Sandman" recently
published one of those stupid stories you perverts
read, and in it he claimed that "few
people know either computers or the Net as well as"
he does. That may be true, given the
percentage of idiots in the population nowadays, but if he thinks he can go
around hacking people's addresses with impunity, he's got another think coming.
We at SNERSH have decided to teach him a little lesson.
So, using our superior technology,
we have simply copied all the fan mail he got
the first day after he published this
ridiculous opus. Here it is:
------------------------------
Not bad, fella! You'll figure out this writing stuff sooner or later.
Regards,
Sven
-----------------------------
THE THREE SEASONS
68554 Tremont Street
Boston, Massachusetts 02001
April 1, 1998
Dear Mr. Sands:
Our media consultant has informed us that you recently praised fulsomely the cuisine and service of one of our competitors on one of the more conspicuous Internet fora. (Since our boss has put one of those kiddie-blockers on our network, I was unable to verify this, but our consultant usually knows what he's talking about.)
He also noted that the chambermaid
who cleaned up their Room 607 mentioned that it
looked as if a couple of ostriches
had been mating in it, but the damage was easily
repaired out of petty cash, so we decided
to treat the story as unprincipled, blatant
hogwash.
Be that as it may, we are seriously
in need of publicity, even though our standards are
surely higher than those of our competitor.
For example, we close in the winter so that our staff members may attend continuing
education courses in France and Austria.
Nonetheless, since we opened only recently,
our reputation has not spread so far as we
would like. Our consultant also informed
us that it is reliably reported that Madame
Celeste, who reviews the matter published
in your forum, is soon to start adding a
numerical grade for the surroundings
in which the stories take place. We want to get in on the ground floor.
Therefore, Mr. Sands, we are offering
you a week's free stay here at THE THREE
SEASONS should you decide to make another
foray to the Hub of the Universe. Just
mention this letter when you make your
reservations, and we will roll out the red carpet.
We will even see that the bed is more
than eight feet long, which should certainly be
adequate for you and any companion
you might pick up here.
Very truly yours,
[Illegible]
Manager
-------------------------------
NUDE PICS! NUDE PICS!
WE HEARD YOU LIKE 'EM TALL, AND HAVE
WE GOT 'EM! Our supermodels range
from 4'3" to 7'2". We will, of course, as is our
custom, make a special packet, just
for you! Click on our website at www.noshit.com
TODAY. EVERYTHING IS FREE THIS
WEEK!
------------------------------
A lovely story. Your grammar is
fairly good, but your punctuation leaves a good deal to
be desired.
Regards,
ESkilton
----------------------
Dear Mr. Sands,
If your the Mr. Sands that used
to hang out at the Garnet Lounge in Austin I just want to
say hi! I've got this little ten-year-old
boy now that looks just like you. But I haven't lost
my figure, and I still know how to do
those kinky things we used to do! If you get to
Austin, look me up at the old place.
I know you'll just love Billy!
Yours truly,
Sunny
----------------------------
Hi, Mr. Sands--
I just loved your story! God, that
hotel sounds gorgeous. I live for the day when I can get
out of this burg and hit the big city.
Of course I never will, unless somebody takes me. My brother's computer is
the only thing that keeps me from going nuts. If you live in Texas, you can't
be far away! Please come and rescue me. If you don't, I'll probly just
rot away here in Muleshoe like my mom.
Love,
Velda Robinson
---------------------------
I remember you, Mr. Sands, and you
remember me, too! Now that you're all
grown up, I don't see why you
shouldn't drop by some day and discuss further such
cultural ikons as Coleridge, Byron,
Shelly and Antaeus Feldspar. I don't blush as easily
now as I did back when I was a student
teacher, but I see you still like to shock people. I've been teaching
fifteen years now, and I've never had another student who figured out what
was going in Xanadu. I'd love to see you.
Au revoir,
Mrs. Betsy Feldspar
------------------
You don't need to call us, Mr. Sands--we'll
call you. We are going to offer you a job that
no red-blooded American could possibly
reject. Our computer department has pretty much crashed, and you sound like
just the man to rebuild it. We are pretty sure that we can bring you in as
a GS-332, which is better pay than you get from that cheap outfit you work
for now. You'll love the working conditions--we're housed in a large manorial
estate just outside of Langley, VA.
The reason for this e-mail is that by law we are required to tell you that you are undergoing a thorough background check in order that we may offer you this truly fascinating position.
You'll be hearing from us, one way or another.
-------------------------
Dear Mr. Sandman:
Gee, you sound wonderful! I really
like writers, you know. And I bet you look just like
Leo!
I wish you would take me out to
dinner. I don't need to go to those fancy restaurants,
either--I like PapaGino's best, you
know!
And that Janey--all she did was
let you fuck her. I can do a lot better than that. In school
just the other day a boy I know taught
me how to do a "blow-job." Now that was fun, and
I bet you'd like it, too.
And she's so o-o-o-old! You may
not know it, Mr. Sandman, but young girls like me are a
lot better than old women. I know 'cause
my Sunday School teacher told me so. He has an old wife and all, but he said
I was a lot better. He knows, too--he went to college.
You said you like 'em tall, but I bet you just haven't had any good ones that were really hot. I'm five-foot-four, but I bet I can make you think I'm big enough.
I thought that crack about MTV was funny. They have a lot of good stuff, and your probly right, we'd learn more there than on the Internet.
Anyhow, I think you ought to call me up, and then we'd like have a ball!
Just ask anybody around Jones Junior High--they'll tell you I'm really hot stuff.
I think your wonderful, Mr. Sandman!
I love you.
Tina from Toledo
------------------------
THE WHITE HOUSE
1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, Northwest
Washington, D.C.
Dear Mr. Sands:
We'd like your help. One of our
advisers has suggested that we beef up our career
counseling office because we have recently
had occasion to find jobs for so many interns
who fail to meet our qualifications,
not to mention other trailer park trash who have left us suddenly and needed
other employment. The person to whom you refer as "Janey" in your estimable
literary work seems to have just the abilities we are looking for to fill
our new post of Director of Career Counseling.
Unfortunately, the CIA has been
unable to find out her location, or even her e-mail
address. We'd really appreciate it if
you would be so kind as to suggest that she get in touch with us.
Sincerely,
Elwood Bourdeaux
Assistant to the President
------------------------
JESUS H. CHRIST!
I CAN'T EVEN THINK!
Listen, I LOVE snails!
All the women will hate me!
Beth said, when she could control her drooling, that I should sue.
But I kind of like it. Especially the part where you say I'm "staggeringly beautiful."
Lots of love,
Janey, having the vapours
------END---------
NOTE TO AUTHORS, POTENTIAL AS WELL AS CURRENT:
Because SNERSH lacked a Hotmail
account, I posted this for them. (They got in touch
with me by witchcraft.) They wanted
me to caution you that very few authors get this
much fascinating mail when they post
stories, so you must not be disappointed if you get
only a few uninteresting notes saying
"Great job!" and stuff like that. In fact, if you get mail like this, it's
plagiarism, because all this is fiction; the only one that's real is the last
one.
Heartfelt apologies to ESkilton,
A. Feldspar, Sven the Elder and Elwood Bourdeaux, if
necessary. And, of course, to my dear
Sandman.
Copyright 1998 by Jane Urquhart.
------REAL END------