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Of Meat Helmets.

  • Jan. 30, 2005
  • 4:04 p.m.

A job and a lotto win

  • Jan. 27, 2005
  • 12:50 a.m.

Really, send me some freakin' documents...

  • Jan. 24, 2005
  • 9:34 p.m.

Enter Dr. Innocent

  • Jan. 23, 2005
  • 9:26 p.m.

Time Passages, pt. II

  • Jan. 19, 2005
  • 11:48 p.m.

Jul. 12, 2004 - 11:37 p.m.

Me and Mrs. Jones, Part the Sixth...

...wherein the plot thickens. His correspondnce with Mrs. Jones having lapsed, and further entreaties to Mrs. Jones' e-mail going unanswered or unreturned, Forwunyne had feared the Grim Reaper had finally come for Mrs. Jones. Then one day he received an e-mail (well, actually it was forwarded on by a fellow scambaiter and I will spare you the details, if you need a refresher, just read Mrs. Jones original epistle, it's basically the same claptrap) that seemed remarkably similar to Mrs. Jones entreaty, but with the poor unfortuate's name changed to "Mrs. Blessfaith Kazeem". Could it be Mrs. Jones in disguise? Hey, why not?

Forwunyne decides to assume that this "Mrs. Blessfaith Kazeem" IS in fact the one and only Mrs. Jones, responds to the new e-mail, provides his apologies and a disturbing account of his recent activities to her. Hopefully, the comedy will continue.

My dear Mrs. Jones:

It's you, isn't it? It has to be you, the details of this message from Mrs. Kazeem are too strikingly similar to yours for this to be a mere coincidence. I hope you are not angry with me for using your real name in this message. Maybe you changed your name for security reasons (I never did trust that nurse of yours) and now I have perhaps put you at risk by using that name in this e-mail, but I am too joyous to resist the temptation.

Oh, how I have agonized these many months with no news of your health. Do you remember me, Mrs. Jones? It is I, Ulysses R. Forwunyne, at one time scheduled to be your partner in this most important and holy business. If it is you, and I am sure that it is, I am overjoyed to find that you remain in good health. When last we discussed this matter, you had been given only six days to live by your doctors.

Let me apologize for letting our correspondence lapse. I feel a perfect fool. Do you know what I did? So troubled was I by your message and the all too short six day time frame it suggested that I travelled immediately to Amsterdam, which was not easy to manage in view of Veronica's opposition to the journey.

I went in search of your lawyer friend, as I felt that our business needed to be conducted with great haste and in person. But do you know what? I could not find him! After two days of searching, I lost his and your contact information. Then, many other horrible things happened to me, things I am too embarrassed to discuss fully at this time. Suffice to say that, while in Amsterdam, I spent some time in a remarkable coffee house where I consumed some unusual Dutch cigarettes. Very shortly thereafter, I was introduced to the company of a very accomodating young woman that I met in a shop window. Although we spent a pleasant evening together (I think), something terrible then happened. I told her (in a moment of weakness, forgive me Mrs. Jones) the purpose of my trip, and the lack of success I was having in locating your lawyer friend. When she heard about all of this, she felt certain that some of her friends would know exactly how to proceed. I cannot go into the shameful details that followed, but I must tell you that this evil woman's friends were nothing but criminals, though I was too blind to see it until it was too late. I travelled to many countries at great expense, and I believed them when they said they knew the way to find you and help you.

But all they did was take my money and exploit my generous nature.

I returned home a little poorer and, I hope, a little wiser. I tried to e-mail you once I got home to tell you my horrible news, but my messages were being returned undelivered. I must tell you, I feared the worst; I thought that you had passed on into the grace of God. You should know that I went into a deep depression for some time; I could not bear the thought that you had died believing me to have deserted you in your time of need. Veronica was very helpful in that regard, she and I have knocked back quite a few pints of an evening, she consoling me and I raising my glass to toast your sweet memory. We also sang (rather boisterously) some Def Leppard karaoke tunes, but I'm not sure that bit had anything to do with you and your plight; it seems more likely that late night scotches played the role of the muse on that one.

There has been some further sad news on my end. My Great Aunt Jemima expired this past 3rd of July; apparently she was best before then. There have been many details to attend to, arranging to dispose of her empty remains, dealing with my relatives (most of whom, as you know, I detest) and meeting with the lawyers to arrange the collection of my inheritance. I will spare you the syrupy details, but suffice to say I have been waffling about what to do with my time remaining on this earth ever since.

Mrs. Jones, I AM sorry, it is obvious that I failed you with my impulsive ways. Yet you, brave woman, are still attempting to find a kind soul to help you in your time of need, and having to change your name to boot. I don't blame you for not contacting me again, but please let me make it up to you.

Tell me what I can do to help, and please fill me in on the details of what has happened to you since last we spoke. I must put my troubled mind at ease, and no doubt Veronica will have many questions for me when I tell her this miraculous news. I look forward eagerly to your reply.

Regards,

U.R. Forwunyne

- U.R. Forwunyne: hot, sticky sweet, from [his]head down to [his] feet

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