The return of Grårp
Cordoned off on September 18, 2005.
My dearest brother Grårp visited me this week, from beyond the grave!
He didn’t look like a zombie, but he sure smelled like one! He told me that he and Samuel Dreckers (whom I killed) have been getting along quite well with one another down in the seventeenth level of Hell. I thought he was insane, but then again, he’s always thought I was insane. With a bump and a glurgle, we both disagreed to agree, and smattered the philately loop around his head.
I asked him about Mr. Wilson, but all he had to say was “Poor, poor Mr. Wilson. What happened to him couldn’t have happened to a worse fellow. I hope he’s down in the nineteenth level.” I slapped Grårp with a dead fish I had been keeping around for just this occasion—no one mocks poor Mr. Wilson, not even my dearest brother Grårp!
With a noise not unlike the sound of a fog horn clattering through the intestines of a rhinoceros, he then broke apart (having moldered under the ground for some time now) and the worms consumed him.
Now I’m sad.