A Letter From the Morrow Jungle.

So a while ago I got the idea to send my friend a letter detailing my (fake) adventures in some place called the Morrow Jungle. I wrote the letter late one night, sat back and thought hey, that's pretty good. Of course most people would have stopped there. Or maybe sent the letter via email or posted it to their blogs with a brief explanation.

I am not most people.

This is the letter my friend received.

 

It reads:

Dearest Lorien,

I am writing to inform you of my safe arrival in the Morrow Jungle. We had set down about a week ago, but this is my first chance of finding a place to post a letter. The locals assure me that this letter will indeed reach you. I hope you are well and that the weather back home is much better then this terrible tropical heat.

So far I have only had one encounter with the dreaded Peruvian Fire Weasels. Luckily most of our tents and equipment were spared, with only one porter suffering serious burns. I was able to save most of my notes as well. I have enclosed a drawing of the Lesser Fire Weasel for your consideration. Less fortunate was our encounter with the Giant Vampire Mosquitoes. I had been assured that the clubs the men brought along were sufficient to destroy the insecticidal menace, but sadly they fell regrettably short in that regard. However, do not fear for my safety or comfort, I have found through a delightful local shaman that the sap from the Morrow tree, yes indeed, the very tree from with this jungle was named, has a marvelous effect on the bites.

Professor Wirthington had ventured a guess that the sap must contain some sort of morphine or codeine. He has cautioned us to use the sap in moderation only, and to maintain records of it's use on ourselves for future study and reference. Nevertheless, I am not worried about overuse, as I am presently not worried about much of anything. I am hoping to bottle some of this wonderful substance to take back -purely in the name of science.

I am afraid that I cannot say more at this juncture as night is falling and a think that I will soon not have light enough to see by. In the morning I will venture further downriver in my search for the Pip Piper Vulture and the elusive Singing Waddle Bird of Paradise.

Yours forever, your esteemed friend,

Holly.

 This letter was accompanied by these.

 

I am going to assume that stunned silence is due to awe. Yes, I spent all this time dying the paper, doing the drawings, scanning it in, finding a font and printing it out and mailing to my friend for no real reason at all other then I thought it was fucking funny.

It's possible I might a little crazy.

A little awesome crazy.