COME BACK NEXT THURSDAY WHEN THEY AREN'T LOOKING.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

I was gonna write you, but the upside-down people kept knocking on my windows and I couldn't concentrate.  I was gonna call you, but you'd said you'd call me when you got your new phone figured out...And that was months ago, so I figure maybe not such a good idea.  

I was gonna email you, but that would just give Them more to work with, what with Their spying through my mirrors and putting listening devices in my toilet.  I was gonna text you, but the same problem applies.  I know what They think of me, because I can hear them whisper at night...Even the pills don't drown them out, and I'm fresh out of tinfoil.

I was gonna come visit you, but there's no way out of The City.  It's all just a big circle, and I can't even fly, because the TSA has my face in Their database, and They'll put me on another plane entirely.

There's no rule that says They have to leave a way out, you know.  They own the ball and the ballpark, and there's nothing you or I can do or say that They don't already have a number for, a shrink-wrapped product for, a injection-molded country song for.

But I'll fool Them all, you bet I will.  I can pretend to be Joe Sixpack, I can act just like the drones that are all around me, meat puppets every one of them, I can act like them and sound like them and not BE them, and eventually maybe They will focus their attention on someone else, and not drag me off to one of the old Nike silos outside of town.  We know what They do in those places, right?  

I can see all of this very well, even though I've painted all my windows black to keep Their satellites from spying on me.  They still launch golf balls with listening devices into my yard, but I just throw them back, and let on like I'm just a nice guy giving the golfers their property back.

I wish I could write you, though, to warn you of Their tricks...Because it's lonely, you know, being the only Human for hundreds of miles in any direction.

Or Kill Me

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

Whoa. 

[Luna]

Freeky?  Plz to check Rogers pillz, plz...

Dang.  Spooky.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Freeky?  Plz to check Rogers pillz, plz...

Dang.

Sometimes I have to just let the horrible mad dog's shit in my head bubble to the surface, you know, and spew it, cause I've had me my fill of bourbon and pills, and I just need to puke up the bad water.

KNOW WHAT I MEAN, VERN?  'COURSE YA DO.

Everyone does.  Everyone who's anyone, that is, which disqualifies the residents of the bedroom town I live in.  They're zombies, lady, they shuffle out in daylight to their cars and their offices and their golf courses, because they don't even know they're dead.  Hell, they were BORN DEAD, and Holy Mother of Jebus, are they productive little bastards.  For dead people.  But they suck at golf, as evidenced by the dents all over the back end of my house.  Can't have it all, right?

But my cell phone provider has me covered.  I can dial numbers, and They have machines set up to talk to me that sound like people, so I don't get TOO lonely, because then I might go, you know, bonkers...And that would probably ruin whatever effect They are after.

Yes, They have everything under control, they have a near-perfect illusion all set up.

But I am not fooled, Or Kill Me.

[Freeky]

I can't tell whether I'm included in this statement or if it's just horrible shit, and it makes me sad to think I might be a Pink.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

I can't tell whether I'm included in this statement or if it's just horrible shit, and it makes me sad to think I might be a Pink.

SLOW DOWN, FREEKY, I'M A ROCK N ROLL MAN!

[Freeky]

I can't tell whether I'm included in this statement or if it's just horrible shit, and it makes me sad to think I might be a Pink.

SLOW DOWN, FREEKY, I'M A ROCK N ROLL MAN!

Whatevs, old man, I'ma go listen to Linkin Park on infinite repeat!

[Dysfunctional Cunt]

I got that package you sent.  The date on your letter was 1999 but the post mark was last week.  I'm heading out now, I'm hoping they think it will take longer for me to pack up and go and I'll be able to sneak by.

I haven't heard from anyone else in over a year.  I check the rail cars every day, it's just regular graffiti most days, but I did see the first part of the code for the greenlight.  That was weeks ago though and I've been worried I may have missed the second part.

In the city, they use the trash to listen.  Random bottles and cans rolling down the street for the little monkeys to kick.  

You remember that one girl that used to be on the radio at night?  I actually met her not long ago.  She of course denied who she was at first and I left it alone, but she caught me as I was getting on the train.  She's the one who told me about the stamps.  Did you know they were bugged?

I'm going to try to get part of a message on a rail car tonight.  Keep your eyes open!  Good luck!

[The Good Reverend Roger]

I'm sitting at this desk, I've ALWAYS sat at this desk, and I'll be sitting at this desk for the rest of my life...And my home is 3000 miles East, and I guess I won't see it ever again.

And while I'm sitting here, planning repairs that will have to be done again and again and again, my friends go away, right?  They go somewhere, and when they come back, they don't act like they used to.  Now they're more like acquaintances, people I used to know from around the way.  They do something to them, I think, and when They're done, the person that used to be your partner in crime is some cold, aloof biot that acts the same mostly.

And you wonder, right, you wonder if one day YOU'LL "go away" for a while, and come back looking the same but maybe acting a bit differently, too.

[Suu]

(FECK YES. PSYCHO LETTERS ARE BACK!)