Letters to the Editor

     Please excuse the flurry of small joyous forest creatures that delivered this letter. I hope they did not leave any accidents on your desk.

     I am taking advantage of this Jhudora-day special edition of the Neopian Times to send out a public service announcement for the good of Neopia in general. Here is my message:

     JHUDORA IS AN EVIL WITCH.

     You thought Edna was a witch? Let me tell you, you haven’t seen witchy until you’ve seen Jhudora pitch a fit about someone leaving the milk out all night. Yeah, you thought that was an aftershock from a volcanic eruption in Tyrannia two months ago on a Saturday morning, eh? Guess again, it was because someone couldn’t eat her bowl of Florg-Os.*

     Jhudora: evil crazy Ghostkerbomb waiting to go off at the slightest provocation.

     Also, what is up with the hair?

     So anyway. Here is my plea to Neopia in general: please do not help Jhudora with her quests. For one, she does not deserve to be helped due to being evil, and for two, her cloud is a public health hazard due to its noxious fumes. For three, look at her nail polish please. Ew. Let’s just talk about that for a minute.

     Actually, let’s not, because it is so rancid it makes me nauseous.

     Anyway. Instead of helping that grouch, you should dedicate your time to a truly worthy cause, such as serving the preternaturally beautiful, intelligent and giving Earth Faerie, Illusen. Not only because her quests are more lucrative, but because the air of her well-appointed, life-giving, wonderfully landscaped grove is infinitely more salubrious than Jhudora’s stinky cloud.

     Also, Illusen gives better prizes. Her cookies are creamier, her Rose Shakes rosier, her Honey Potions sweeter, her Rain Water Shampoo better for flaky scalp issues. There can be no question that these are superior to Jhudora’s prizes, whose sole reason for existence is apparently to decapitate, maim, poison, or otherwise debilitate their unfortunate recipients.

     The only prize of Jhudora's that I can think of a real use for is the Bartamus.

     Unconscious.

     As a doorstop.

     Thank you for publishing my letter. Due to concerns of anonymity, I would appreciate it if you would remove all traces of leafy substances and flowery smells before you make it public.

     May moss grow thickly on the rocks you choose to sit on. Very truly yours,

     ~An anonymous contributor

     P.S. Jhudora, everyone knows that you sorely miss Illusen and wish you were best friends forever again. Maybe she will forgive you one day, if you admit that she is more stylish than you are. Unfortunately you are as stubborn as a pet rock, and just as devoid of brain matter. But who knows, maybe one day you will see the light, and that wonderful friendship could be rebuilt and made better, and bloom again like a delicate Lovepetal in Illusen’s Glade.

     *Florg-Os are a part of this complete breakfast.

     ___________________

     Dear Editor:

     Smack the Bartamus if he gets in the way or if he drooled on the envelope while delivering this, would you? Good. I guess I won’t poison your coffee after all.

     This is in response to the letter by an anonymous contributor, by another anonymous contributor. Here is my response:

     I HOPE YOU CHOKE ON A LEAF, ILLUSEN!

     First of all, Jhudora’s cloud’s fumes are not toxic. They only cause mild headaches. I have the paperwork to prove it.

     Secondly, she is not evil, she is just misunderstood.

     Thirdly, she is hilarious, because the sentence above was the funniest thing since the Space Faerie gave Sloth an atomic noogie and took pictures.

     Fourthly, the nail polish. Excuse me. Jhudora does not take fashion advice from faeries who wear FINGERLESS HOBO GLOVES. Just, no. Let’s not go there. Let’s also not talk about your ripped clothing.

     Wait, let’s talk about it actually: why are your clothes ripped?! I can only conclude that you do not have enough neopoints to buy better clothes. Either that or you got confused on the way to the store and ended up purchasing your clothes at the Meridell garbage dump. Hello? Did you not notice that something was wrong when you tried to put on decaying vegetable matter instead of a shirt? Or do your clothes normally consist of compost??

     Oh, what now? My insults totally ranked higher than yours on the burn scale. Yep, I just drifted over your Glade and it was smoking. Zing!

     Stop polluting Neopia with your burning plants!

     Okay. Really, I am not evil. Not in the sense that Sloth is evil and wants to take over Neopia and make minions of the entire population. I only want to take over Neopia and make 90 percent the population my minions, the rest can be free.

     Free to serve me or be turned into mushrooms, that is. Ha ha! Thank you, thank you, I’m here all night. And so are you. Because if you try to leave I will toss you into the Pit of the Doomed, where I put all the people who fail at my quests too many times. You don’t want to know what goes on in there, suffice it to say it involves large amounts of toothpaste and an angry Urgoni.

     Seriously, though, I am misunderstood. All I want to do is ride around Neopia on my cloud and drop things on people’s heads. Last time I tried, though, I was charged with reckless driving and had my cloud confiscated and I had to steal a cumulonimbus from Fyora, which was embarrassing beyond words because it was pink and fluttery.

     Anyways. My prizes are amazing. We’ve been through this already, but of course Illusen missed the boat. As usual. Now she’s flopping around helplessly in the shallows like a defective Delfin, asking the boat to come back, but no one will turn the boat around because they’re afraid of this crazed faerie bizarrely attired in compost materials at an advanced stage of decomposition.

     Frankly, there is no contest between our prize lists. I mean, you could have an overcooked cream cookie. Or you could have a lollypop which could be the means to world domination, providing you can convince Sloth to show you how. You’d have to be a real doorknob to choose the cream cookie.

     I think I have made my point clear.

     May you sit on a Magma pet by accident. Insincerely yours,

     ~Another anonymous contributor

     And P.S. Illusen, I do not miss you at all, ever, EVER. Not even on those boring Sunday mornings when there’s nothing to do except explode things when someone leaves the milk out and I want to eat Florg-Os. I don’t even miss how we sat around on my cloud and made fun of the way people were dressed on long lazy afternoons, or that time Fyora had toilet paper stuck to her shoe and we didn’t tell her.

     ___________________

     Dear Editor:

     Excuse the butterflies, I can’t seem to get any other delivery assistants to come up to my tower at this early hour.

     This is in response to the letters by Anonymous Contributor and Another Anonymous Contributor.

     You both need to calm down. If your public displays of imbecility continue, I am revoking both of your questing licenses and you are going to have to start going to the Soup Faerie for handouts and you will find that your clothing collections expand from hobo gloves to hobo everything.

     Do NOT make me come over there.

     May you remember that Fyora delivers noogies more vicious than the Space Faerie’s,

     ~Extremely anonymous

     P.S. Thank you for not telling me about the toilet paper stuck to my shoe. I hope you both enjoy the plagues of rogue Feepits I have sent your way.

     ___________________

     Dear Editor:

     They don’t pay me enough to do this.

     ~Editor

The End