Michelle Harries
England

Dear Michelle

When you're in England you don't realise how cool it truly is.  When you're in another country however, you do.  Let me count the ways in which England rocks;

1	My bed, upon which I greatly enjoy sleeping, is in England.
2	My television, in front of which I lay and watch hour upon hour of quality programming, is in England.
3	My computer, over which I sit hunched for hours, writing HTML in Notepad, is also (you guessed it) in England.

And many, many more reasons...

Now, somewhere between the lack of vampire bugs and the existence of toilets, you, Michelle Harries, appear.  And some wee-tentacle-beasties.  And some baby oil.  And it's like...  Whoa!  Talk about supple!  To be able to bend like that!  And the way in which the...  Wow!

S2	Hey!  Wait a minute!  What the fuck's going on?
S1	What?  What's your problem bud?
S2	You're my problem!  What kind of depraved filth is this where you talk about Michelle, and wee-tentacle-beasties, and baby oil?!  She's your friend for smeg's sake!  You're not supposed to think these thoughts about a friend!
S1	Well, ordinarily I'd agree with you.
S2	Good!
S1	I try to think of my male friends in these situations as infrequently as possible.
S2	Eh?
S1	But when it comes to female friends, my philosophy is;  "All's fair when you're desperate for something to wank over after getting rid of your entire porn collection.'"
S2	What?  That's sick!  You're a depraved sicko!
S1	Well excuse me!  Who the hell do you think you are anyway?
S2	Why!  I'm Caleb's Self-Control of course!  And who are you?
S1	Why!  I'm Caleb's Imagination!
S2	Well, "Caleb's Imagination", I am here to like, totally control you!
S1	No way!
S2	Way!  And like now, you're dead!
S1	Whoa!  Harsh Realm!
S2	Hey!  You're dead!  No talking when you're dead!
S1	What?  Oh screw that!  You can't kill Caleb's Imagination!  That'd be like cutting off Samson's hair or whatnot.  I however, can kill you!  So prepare to die!!!
	STOP!
S1	Huh?
S2	Who?
S1	Eh?
	SHUT UP!  I'M CALEB!
S2	Caleb's what?
S1	His really loud voice?
S2	His inability to write in anything but capitals?
	SHUT UP ALREADY!  NAY!  I AM CALEB - THE ORIGINAL!  AND YOU GUYS ARE REALLY STARTING TO PISS ME OFF!
S1	Huh?
S2	How?
	BY TRYING TO KILL EACH OTHER!  DON'T YOU REALISE THAT I NEED BOTH OF YOU TO BE WHO I AM?  IF I WAS NOUGHT BUT IMAGINATION I'D LOSE ALL MY FRIENDS BY TELLING THEM WAY MORE THAN THEY WANTED TO HEAR.  AND IF I WAS NOUGHT BUT SELF-CONTROL (WHICH I AM AROUND NON-FRIENDS ANYWAY) I'D BORE EVERYONE TO DEATH.  DO YOU SEE THE TRUTH OF MY WORDS?
S2	Of course!  You are correct, Oh Great One!  I am sorry, and apologise profusely, for my actions.
	THIS IS A GOOD THING.  AND YOU, "CALEB'S IMAGINATION", DO YOU SEE THE TRUTH?
S1	Nay!  Screw you guys!  I'm taking over and that's that!

[With this "Caleb's Imagination" kills off all other aspects of Caleb's personality, and takes over Caleb's body.]

Ho ho ho!  Now I am truly in charge!  I will continue with this letter in the manner in which I see fit!  Bwa ha ha ha haaaaa!!!

Now, the day before I left for Jordan I collected all my e-mails from July 24th onwards.  In response to the one you sent me on July 27th, I wrote a kick @$$ e-mail.  And being the sad and obsessive person that I am, I brought a copy of it with me on disk.  Just in case I could find a computer on which to send it.  Now, there is a cyber-café here in Amman, but because I've already worked it into this letter, I'm gonna include it here anyway!  (Hell, I said I was sad and obsessive!).  Here it is;

~


Ho ho ho!  'Tis I, Father Christmas! (AKA Caleb Newcastle [AKA Phatboi Sim])

Now, this e-mail is in response to the one you sent me on July 27th, 1999.  I've sent you stuff since, but I only just got this e-mail (by going round Ian's house), so I thought I'd respond to all the stuff therein.

I wrote to Lorna, Jenni and Ella 'cos I got their e-mail addresses when someone else sent out an e-mail to loads of people and I got a copy.  I nicked all the e-mail addresses at the top and wrote an e-mail which I sent to about 25 people, asking them to e-mail me 'cos I was bored.  That's probably it.

You hardly ever laugh at me?  That means that sometimes you do!  No fair!  I prefer it that if I ever do something which makes people laugh at me, that they tell me.  Otherwise I may do it again!  And that would indeed suck.

How the machines produced their energy would determine how much waste they produced.  In The Matrix they used the human body as a source of electrical energy.  They also had a very efficient recycling thang going on, where the dead were fed to the living.  This would indicate that machines would be very efficient in their running of the world and would therefore live in a much cleaner one.  I think you're right about the sewers being nothing more than remnants from human times.  It's just that you automatically assume that sewers are full of shit (unless you believed the Teenage Mutant Hero Turtles were real...).  Engine is spelt E-N-G-I-N-E, not E-N-G-E-I-N by the way.  Just thought you'd like to know (why don't you just use a spellchecker? [and there is one in the version of Outlook Express that you have]).  As far as The Matrix is concerned there did seem to be some sort of hierarchy thang going on.  You had the machines taking care of the humans, the squid-machines hunting the free-humans down, and the Agent machines to deal with guys like Neo.  As to whether the machines themselves cared about this would all depend on the level of awareness of each machine.  If only the Agent ones were actually sentient as such, then I suppose they could be seen as the higher class.  But since the others would not be aware of their situation, it is debatable as to whether it really matters.  In the end it all depends on the complexity of the individual machine.

I'd want the fatbimp to fly so that it could fly things around for me (like a great big carrier pigeon).  One of the points of making the fatbimp was that it would have the brain of a chimpanzee.  These can be trained really well, and so it would think of its owner as its friend.  The cat and fox parts are for the cuteness / furriness / bog-standard-body-parts of the animal.  And the bat is simply for the wings.  Of course, I don't actually understand how genetic engineering works exactly, but this is all gibber-talk anyway, so it doesn't really matter.  As for being the animal, I'm not so sure. You'd only have the intelligence of a chimp, so that would pretty much suck.  Though you would have the fox tail, which you could use as a kick @$$ scarf...

Tessa has a job!  You have a job!  The whole world's gone mad!!!  If you work, that means you actually get money on a regular(ish) basis!  And that is indeed kewl.  I'm also very flattered that you think it's fun talking to me (though do you still think that after these extremely sad and obsessive p-mails?) and I'm all blushing and stuff now...

My name is SO not Simmy!  Caleb is my actual name.  Sim is acceptable.  But Simmy is just too fucked up.  Of course, I don't actually care that much, so call me whatever you like.  Don't worry about the e-mail thang, that's sorted.  You already know, but Colin ain't allowed on the net 'cos his phone bill came and it was way too big.

Hey!  I'm not perverse any more!  I got rid of all my porn!  Now I have to use my imagination!  (Okay, so I'm still perverse, but there ain't no physical evidence of it!  Hah!  [Well except for the tissues... but I flush those down the bog...])  Wait a minute...  I just looked up perverse in the dictionary, and it's the one that just means weird and whatnot.  Yay!  Pervert is the bad (Colin-like) one...  And I'm way too inexperienced to be that!  Oh, and no pressure!  You mean, if I stopped being like I am, and became a regular guy, you'd all stop being my friends?  Well... ain't no worry of that happening!

Those P.S. thingies did haunt me!  But I had an exorcism thang.  So I think you've seen the last of them... at least for now.  I'm not fat 'cos...  I have no idea.  I mean, I eat and eat and eat, and yet I stay at a steady 10_(ish) stones.  Probably what you said.  High metabolism and whatnot.  But I thought you aren't fat 'cos you don't eat food?  And you're not that skinny.  It's just that your body is pretty much sorted, what with the gorgeous figure, and the perfect skin and the supple way in which...

~

STOP THE INAPPROPRIATE WRITINGS!

What?  Who is that?

'TIS I, CALEB!

Huh?  I killed you already!

NAY.  YOU KILLED ALL OTHER ASPECTS OF MY PERSON.  BUT YOU CAN NEVER KILL CALEB HIMSELF!

Oh bugger.  So, um, no more lewdness, eh?

CORRECT.

And no more sex scenes?

CORREC...  WHAT?!  I HAVEN'T READ ANY OF THOSE!  WHERE ARE THOSE?

No, no.  I was just about to write one when you interrupted me.

OH.  WELL.  GOOD JOB I INTERRUPTED YOU WHEN I DID THEN...

Yeah, I guess.  I mean, there's only so much you can do with three Michelles, some wee-tentacle-beasties and some baby oil...

THREE MICHELLES?

Well, hey!  I am Caleb's Imagination after all!  So I figured that if you're gonna have weird perverse fantasies about your friends, then you may as well do stuff that would be muy tricky in real life.

FAIR ENOUGH...  NO!  WAIT!  WHAT AM I SAYING?  YOU CAN'T WRITE THIS!  THIS IS WRONG.  BUT THEN...  YOU KILLED MY SELF-CONTROL...  IN FACT YOU'RE THE ONLY ASPECT OF PERSONALITY STILL ALIVE!  THEREFORE YOU RULE ME COMPLETELY!  UM...  WHAT IS YOUR BIDDING, OH GREAT ONE?

Huh?  Kick @$$!  Um...  bugger off so I can finish this letter in peace?

YES SIR, CALEB'S IMAGINATION, SIR!  (BUT NO SEX SCENES Y'KEN?)

(That's hokey.  I didn't really want to strain myself anyway.)
Bye now.

GOODBYE, SIR!

Now!  On with the letter!

~

Um yeah...  that's all I have to say about that.

I tried to do that signature thang, but I've got Outlook Express 5.0, so I don't know how.  ('Tis different from the version you have...)

Um...  this is kinda embarrassing.  It turns out the guestbook ain't working.  I have no idea why, but it means you probably won't be able to sign it.  Therefore, I'm afraid you'll have to wait for me to fix it before you get that kiss.  (In reference to what you said - "And also, never mind the stars, if I sign it will you kiss me?").  Unfortunately, this may take some time because I'm going on holiday, and when I get back I'm not allowed to update my site at Ian's house anymore.  Ah well...

Um... you know this too, but no, Ian didn't give me his key, so that's why this e-mail is so late.

Bye bye!

A Mega Sad e-mail

By Caleb "Phatboi Sim" Newcastle - caleb@megasad.freeserve.co.uk

P.S. - Goddamnit!  I just couldn't resist!  Please help meeeeee!!!!!

P.P.S. - Okay, here's a serious point I just thought of.  Why is it that girls can stick "love, whoever" at the end of e-mails / letters / whatever, but if a boy does it, it's seen as really fucked up?  Just wondered what you thought about that...

~

And that'd be the e-mail.

Anyhow, I just realised that this is a letter from me in Jordan, so you may have been wondering (though probably not) what it is that I've been doing.

For the first three days Jordan sucked @$$.  The reason for this is that I was in a scabby little village called Madeen.  Now if a scabby little village can be boring in England, imagine what it's like when you can't speak the language, there's nothing on the television, it's 40°C in the shade, and you just wanna go home!
But enough of the doom and gloom.  On the fourth day I left my family in said scabby village, and went to stay in Amman (Jordan's capital) with my uncle, aunt and cousins.  Amman rocks.  There's a swimming pool here which is stunning, and (best of all) they have computers!  I'm writing and printing this letter on the computer of my aunt's brother in-law.  And my cousin Nayef has some kick @$$ friends (Morad, Bashir and Jebber).  Also my cousin Fayez is pretty kewl too  (he asked me to write this.  He's only about ten, so what ya gonna do?)  Anyhow, the point is that this holiday started out crap, but has gotten really good.

However, I'm still really homesick, so I'm going to be coming home early.  By August 24th at the latest.  And what shall I do with a house all to myself and a load of money?  Why, Have loads of crappy sleep-overs of course!  Every night!  Bwa ha ha ha haaaaa!!!

See ya

Caleb

P.S.- This is one part in a series of really screwed up letters.  To get the whole story ask;

Michelle Harries	for Part 1  (Though asking yourself would be a bit odd...)
Ian Davis	for Part 2
Gareth Preston	for Part 3
Tessa Burgess	for Part 4
Colin Jackson	for Part 5