|Farewell to Willie|
Issue #09 (May 1982)
Golly, I thought you'd believe I was just working on the theory that everyone needs to be loved and appreciated. I really think you have over-reacted. There was no need to bring in Lizzie Borden, for heaven's sake. It's not axiomatic that because my name is Liz I have a problem with my parents, vis a vis Borden/Barrett-Browning. I don't. Principally because I have no parents, probably, but that's beside the point. I had nothing at all to do with their demise. Honest.
Also, I mentioned only that I was not a drinking person. I said nothing about snuff. You had better lay off the raisin-jack. Casey must have slipped in some hallucinatory substance before you went up to type that letter to Dear Ed. asking him to exorcise me off your back. Casey just said it was corn mash.
Fact is, Willie, things are looking up so much down here in the valley, I planted the marigolds on the patio, and have managed to wangle enough invitations to dinner I've not had to scavenge the cans for three weeks.
It's quite odd that you should have mentioned teddy bears. I think it shows what a kindred bond there is between our fine Mensa minds. I have worked up a nice little side business in secondhand teddy bears. Enough for my snuff. It's surprising to see how many of even the most possessive bachelor types are willing to hand over their cuddly, fuzzy friends after just one evening with me.
And now, Willie, the denouement! Tell Vernalee I am sorry I blew the whole plan - #DWF86. You see, I am her capital city undercover psychic side-kick and my mission was to distract you. I was to wangle my way into your heart and mind with my celebrated charm and seductiveness. Once enraptured, with the aid of my love potions, your beady little eyes would not observe Vernalee as she carried out our important work.
You see, the kitchen there is her command center. The reason you get so many pickle ragouts is because when you come weaving into the kitchen she has had to plunge her microphone into many a meat loaf. And a pot roast full of microfilm is not tasty.
Currently, our project, oddly enough, involved turning back much of M'burg's meagre natural resources to a fragmentary but insurgent tribe of Kickumas. That, however, is only the tip of the iceberg. I can't tip our hand as to the immensity of our total plan.
Just a teensy hint to give you something to think about in case you get stuck at Harry's again - it involves not only Peabody, but J. Watts, our national "Outdoorsman of the Year."
Well, Willie, I can make my peace with Vernalee since I have an enviable track record of successful missions, and she will reassign me elsewhere. I can almost hear her giggle "Win some lose some, inthat winsome way of hers. She warned me you were a bit paranoid and a tough nut to crack. Thus, I'm off on my next assignment.
This then, is farewell. I won't need to write you again. And you'll be far away with the Foreign Legion, anyway. Which, of course, means that our Alternate Plan #DIP-6 succeeded! Heh, heh, heh.