Terrance Adams Lincoln, you filthy little twat-wrangler. It has come to my attention that there are those in this world that are at least as qualified as you to do your job. Until now, I have turned a blind eye to your personal proclivities because you did such exemplary work that I had great difficulty believing that there was anyone as competent as yourself. I see now that I was very mistaken. No longer shall I allow your indiscretions to risk tarnishing the reputation of my company. If I don’t have a exemplary report about how you’ve cleaned up from Ralph when I return, you shall have only your personality with which to woo those street walkers you’re so fond of. I hope I have made myself abundantly clear.
President Seymour Wellington
Should I ever evacuate this journey and return home to you, I fear I shall forever be a bitter shell of the man whom I once was. The journey back from my trip that started out so enjoyable took a degrading turn when we lost motion and light traversing through the Sanderson Tunnel. While most of the passengers seemed to take it with stride, the business man in front of me was all too quick to express his displeasure and has continued to express it for two days. I must say that it has put quite the damper on my mood. If not for his continued mutterings, I may have been able to patiently enjoy myself whilst I wait for the train to return to motion.
He was actually quite pleasant when we took board of our journey, sitting there quietly going over what appeared to be business work. I say this only because of the way in which his papers were strewn about his lap and seat; rest assured that I was not snooping. Anyhow, the train suddenly seemed to lose power and slowed to a stop. After a few moments of silence, I heard him mutter something to the effect of, “Is this really what my ticket has paid for? Does not my money go towards the experience?” His grumbling only grew stronger until someone eventually came through with some old oil lanterns they had found in one of the storage cars. He was apparently placing them at key points on the train to make things easier. That is until the businessman in front of me berated the poor bastard into hanging it by his seat.
“What do you think you’re doing?” He said. “Don’t put that there, I absolutely must have that lamp over here. I have very important work that must be done and it doesn’t stop just because of disaster.” The poor boy tried to explain the necessity of placing the lamp where he was but the man would have none of it. “Don’t you sass me, young man! I am doing far more important work than you can possibly imagine and the rest of you can deal with a little dimness so that I can do what must be done.” The boy tried to reason with the man, but eventually he relented and placed the lantern where the man saw fit. I slipped the poor boy fifty dollars just for having to deal with the wretched man in and among everything else so that he might be able to get some much needed enjoyment when we get out of here.
Full of grumblings and mutterings, the business man attended to his work, almost constantly complaining and cursing under his breath. A short while ago when the Postmaster announced that he was going to attempt to walk his way out and offered to deliver any correspondence free of charge, the man immediately stopped what he was doing, pulled out a large stack of paper and began furiously writing letters and stuffing them into envelopes. So enthralled by his speed and ferocity, I couldn’t resist but to look over his shoulder and glance at what he was sending off.
Oh Mary, I wish I had not. Such an offensive string of obscenities laced with phrases such as fanny bandit and twat coddler. I don’t even know what that could possibly mean and I’m certain that I don’t want to know. Sweet darling, how I long to return to the gentle embrace of your arms and soft demeanor. Please know that I am safe for the time being and that for the most part, my time has been uneventful, though annoying.
Your loving husband,
Jonathan Anthony Carver, you wretched little nincompoop! In the event that this letter reaches you before I do, you’re fired!
President Seymour Wellington