An open letter to The Baron of the Trees

Dear Baron,

I thank you for your comment. It is nice to know there is at least one maniac who reads my words. You see, in all your omniscient posing, you seem to have missed the blatantly obvious: I live a rather scandalous lifestyle and am unafraid of Death and his shadowy train of followers. Rather, I welcome them. My psychologist/lover tells me this rather fiendish aspect of my character is my dramatic way of laughing at the Dionysian aspect of the World. Sometimes I wish I had let her expand on that thought rather than expanding myself and mounting her on the chaise longue. But I digress...

What I am trying to say--rather sententiously, I confess (forgive me, for I am feeling languid)--is: Bring it on, Baron. Besides your threatening words and your apparent hackery of of the estate's sophisticated wireless Internet connection (By the way, I am close personal friends of both webmasters and centaurs), I see no evidence of your power. Consequently I think of you as some kind of impotent Satan with a course in Computer Science under his gaudy country-and-western belt.

So please, go ahead and attempt murder, because often I dream of death and find it a rather peaceful alternative to the hustle and bustle of the world. Truly if you wanted to shock me, threaten appearing at my door in a black belt and brown shoes while devouring a McDonald's cheesed Hamburg sandwich open-mouthedly and eructating between gluttonous swallows, for that is a more fearful thought to me.

If you are serious about this murder thing, stop by for a spot of tea first and have a go at fixing my printer.

Sincerely,

Nigel Tewksbury

P.S.
I have left you a gift by the fountain. One of Santa's elves told me you wanted a bloody gibbon's head.