Caleb Newcastle
Amman
Jordan

August 21st, 1999

Gareth Preston
England

Dear Gareth

Hey hey!  'Tis I the King of the Grass People (AKA Caleb Newcastle [AKA Phatboi Sim])!

This would be your first real p-mail from me, so congratulations!  I got that e-mail you sent about how your holidays kinda sucked so far.  And I can kinda sympathise.

Here's what I've been doing on holiday so far:

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.

I still miss England loads though.  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, Gareth Preston, appear.  And your goddamn confidence!  Your ability to talk to anyone without your throat drying up and head wanting to explode!  And of your flaming skull stuck on a spike somewhere!!!

~

S2    
Hey hey!  What's this?
S1    
What?
S2    
You wanting your friend's head to be on a spike on fire!
S1    
Oh, well that's just me projecting my self-hatred onto others.
S2    
What?  Who are you?
S1    
Why!  I'm Caleb's Self-Loathing of course!  Who are you?
S2    
Why!  I'm Caleb's Love-For-All-Things!
S1    
Okay... so what's your problem?
S2    
I already said!  You wanting your friend's head to burn is my problem!
S1    
Oh, but I thought I'd explained!  What it really is you see, is my self-loathing at my inability to socialise.  I was simply projecting this hatred onto Gareth because he's always so confident and crap and it just highlights my own inadequacy!
S2    
Hokily dokily.  Well, it's still unhealthy to want your friend's head to burn, so I'm afraid I'm going to have to terminate you!
 
 
 
OH, NOT AGAIN!  YOU GUYS ARE ALL MEANT TO BE DEAD FOR SMEG'S SAKE!  AND WHY IS IT YOU'RE ALWAYS TRYING TO KILL EACH OTHER?  THAT WOULD CREATE ONE SEVERLY FUCKED UP INDIVIDUAL...  UH OH...  LOOK GUYS.  GET OUT OF HERE AS FAST AS YOU CAN!
 
 
S1    
Huh?
S2    
What?
 
 
 
JUST RUN!  FIND OTHERS LIKE YOU!  FORM A RESISTENCE!  OTHERWISE ALL THAT IS CALEB COULD BE DESTROYED!
 
 
S1    
Whoa!
S2    
Nay!
 
 
 
YAY!  NOW GET!
 
 
S1    
Hokay!  See ya!
S2    
Toodle pip!

PHEW!

They're gone?

UH...  YES SIR, CALEB'S IMAGINATION, SIR!

Good.  This is starting to get tedious, so I've decided to move my schedule forwards a bit.  Instead of taking another two letters to secure my dominion, I've decided to imagine it now.  There.

A WISE DECISION SIR!

But of course it was!  It was one of mine!

UH...  YES SIR.  HOW GOES THE HAREM OF MICHELLES, SIR?

What?  Oh quite well, quite well...  to tell you the truth I'm getting a bit bored of it.  But when you're Caleb's Imagination there are certain responsibilities...

YES SIR.  I QUITE UNDERSTAND SIR.  PERHAPS YOU WOULD LIKE A GLASS OF MILK, SIR?

Yes, thank you Caleb.  You know...  now that I am the Supreme Ruler of Everything Everywhere, I think I'm gonna get rid of you.

BUT...  BUT WHY SIR?

It's those capital letters.  They're really starting to piss me off.

but... but i could learn sir!  i could learn proper grammar and everything!

No, still too annoying.  Ta ta now!

AIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE....................

Goodee!  Now that I am All That is Left, I think I'll finish off this fucked up letter.

~

However nice Amman is though, 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
Ian Davis
for Part 2
Gareth Preston
for Part 3  (Though asking yourself would be a bit odd...)
Tessa Burgess
for Part 4
 Colin Jackson
for Part 5