Saturday, February 3

Letters Lost

I read a review of the recently released Letters of E. B. White, Revised Edition in The Times a fortnight ago and it got me thinking.....

Gmail Chats of Prometheus Diaphanous

Prometheus: Clancy!
Tom Clancy: hey
Prometheus: You read the The Bourne Trajectory yet?
Tom Clancy: nope
Prometheus: That Ludlum, he keeps spittin em out from the grave!
Tom Clancy: ghostwriter
Prometheus: Good one, Clancy!
Tom Clancy: no I'm serious, Ludlum and I share ghostwriters, been doing it for years
Prometheus: When was the last time you wrote a book, Clancy?
Tom Clancy: early 90s
Prometheus: wow
Tom Clancy: yup
Prometheus: I mean, damn!
Tom Clancy: yeah
Prometheus: so it's all about the video games these days, eh, Clancy?
Tom Clancy: gotta go, Splinter Cell beckons

Voice Messages of Prometheus Diaphanous

Hello, Ovid, it's Prometheus. Sorry it's been so long. I was walking by that donut shop on Wilshire and I thought of the time you bet Horace you could eat twelve elephant ears in two minutes. Remember? You got that last one chewed up and ready to swallow when Pliny the Elder came out of nowhere and knocked you on your backside. Regurgitated elephant ears everywhere! Horace and I argued for hours about whether you had fullfilled your part of the wager. Finally I texted Virgil for an official ruling. You remember what he asked? He says, "Did they have any toppings?" Toppings! Oh that was just like Virgil. I miss that fucker. Anyway, walkin on Wilshire, thinking of you, bud. Peace.

Text Messages of Prometheus Diaphanous

Rd ur stry
gtfoohwtbs! u thnk ur hmngwy? bck to bscs JD. wrt wht u no!

Bloggings of Prometheus Diaphanous

Dear moldy loaf of pumpernickle bread,

I bought you just three days ago, how the FUCK are you so moldy? You nearly ruined my peanut butter and jelly sandwich supper because I did not detect your mold until the first coating of jelly had already been laid. Could you tell your fellow loaves to at least grow their mold in a more distinct fashion in the future? Because I was so hungry I ate your slices anyway, picking off the little cluster of mold by your bottom crust. But before completing my sandwich I observed that your entire slice had a rather grayish hew to it. By the time you read this letter you will have already been eaten by my garbage disposal. I hope it was a slow and painful journey into the world of waste (it was probably not much different than what would have been your fate had you ventured into my digestive system, now that I think about it). I'm sorry it had to end this way, but you know the rules. No mold and you can stay and chill for a while and we can have a nice little symbiotic relationship. But the second you bring that mold into my domicile you're dead.

I (h)ate you,