Hahahaha what the hell.

As I was transferring all my crap from Vaio onto Vaio II, I came upon this little bit of writing I did in 5^th grade. Our job was to pick a well-known fable and modify it as much as we could while keeping the general idea. My idea was to mess with “The Boy Who Cried Wolf,” but as you can see, I got a little…um…carried away with other stuff.

Dear Davis Love III,
This letter was just written to you from a remote nuclear power plant in Russia. At this moment now, some crazy English sheep, who seem to be drunk on herbal tea, are crying out my name (which, by the way, is Vladimir Rimidalv) and beckoning me to join them for their afternoon tea. If you ask me, they’ve been obsessed with this ‘tea’ thing ever since Dimitri (their owner) took away their cigarettes. Dimitri had worked at the plant all his life except for the three years he spent on the Russian Space Station. Of course, he gave me the most formal greeting a guy with a half-liquefied brain could: “Welcome to the Russian Space Station.” Then he broke out into a round of the Russian National Anthem. If you could have heard his rancid voice and seen his crazy gestures, you’d know what I mean when I say he should’ve stayed in space where he belonged. Anyway, as you can tell, it is chaos up here. I‘d like to know more about Roswell, NM, and, by the way, weren’t you a famous golfer at one point? Sincerely, Vladimir Rimidalv.

Dear Vladimir Rimidalv,
I think your living by a remote power plant is really interesting. Have you ever thought about opening a soup kitchen there? I bet you would get lots of money. Hey, why don’t you sell herbal tea to those annoying sheep? When you write about Dimitri, it began to worry me. Do you know about werewolves? I’ve been doing some research on them, and I’m pretty sure he is one. Here are some things to look for: séances every full moon, extra hair, and dangerous-looking teeth. Roswell, NM is really sort of like your place. I would send you one of my school pictures, but they got burned up one day when I was walking home from school (they accidentally set off a nuke!). Watch for the signs.
Sincerely, D.L.3.

Dear Davis Love III,
I opened that soup kitchen you suggested, and my business is not that great. I’m selling more than soup, too. Cappuccino is the only type of thing that gets me money; the groups of sheep come at least three times a day. I’ve learned a lot about them in a week. The leader, who buys all the tea, is named Keith. He’s not the smartest though…Roberto is. He’s the one who invented the coffee filter. The most proper is Marvin. He’s always telling me how to pour the tea. I’ve been watching Dimitri. I’ve purposely been making key chains that say: “Welcome to the Russian Space Station” just to get him over to my shop and get a closer look at him. And I’m afraid to report that I think he really is turning into a werewolf! He’s growing more hair on face and his teeth are turning silver. Also, he’s stealing my cups. What’s up with that??
Vladimir Rimidalv.

Dear Mr. Rimidalv,
An answer to your question: he’s stealing your cups because he has werewolf instinct. They can’t stay away from Styrofoam. Anyway, keep the cups away from him. They encourage the developing werewolf.
Sincerely, DL3.

Dear Davis,
You won’t believe what happened! It was all the boy’s fault! And the sheep’s! And yours! Anyway, I was selling tea to the sheep, just like normal, and having a nice conversation with Marvin, when the boy came up, looking more like a werewolf than ever, and snatched up about 2/3 of my cups! So naturally, I started screaming “Boy! Boy!” I grabbed the burning hot coffee from Marvin’s paws and dumped it on Dimitri. Of course, the sheep began to freak out. They were all galloping all over the place until Marvin, who had uncurled from his hiding position, said, “Hey! That’s not a werewolf! It’s Dimitri!” All the chaos stopped. “But he is a werewolf,” I shouted. “Really! He’s turning hairy, his teeth are silver, and he is stealing my cups!” “No, I’m not a werewolf,” he replied. “I’m growing a beard, I got braces a few days ago, and I’m taking your cups because I want you to stop getting my sheep drunk!” I looked at the sheep. The sheep looked at me. With Marvin’s help, I pushed him into a sinkhole, and he was never heard of again. The sheep went with me on a tour of England, and we made a fortune selling herbal tea.
Sincerely, Vlad R.