Crin,
Really, I have you to thank for the fact that I’m currently rooming with my rather bipolar and anal older sister in an apartment in New York City instead of ruling on high from my throne in Limbo. Don’t deny it. It’s all your fault. The way I see it, if you hadn’t knocked yourself silly in that fight in your dorm room and come into my realm as that lost little twelve-year-old, I would never have been inspired to make The Deal. And then I wouldn’t have sent you all over the planet for three years. Then the higher-ups wouldn’t have come to investigate our little arrangement. And I wouldn’t have been dumped on my rear in Kansas and forced to make ends meet long enough to make it to Sheila in New York.
And so where does that leave us?
Well, you’re up in that special private school near Boston, playing soccer and driving everybody you know crazy. And I’m sitting in an apartment in New York City—which, might I point out to you, my ex-employee, is decorated with a lot of pink. I hate pink—waiting to head off to my shift at the very same strip club where my aforementioned older sister works. Tomorrow, I will be starting a grueling load of homework that have been assigned on my new college classes at the university I barely managed to squeeze into, since my high school diploma was faked on account of my having spent the last six years in Limbo.
Did I ever tell you how much that last part sucks? Because it did. You were the only non-dead company I had, and even though dead people can be seriously fun, there’s just something off about the whole scheme. When that whopper of a coma landed you straight on my doorstep, I thought, hey, cool, alive person. And then you turned out to be eleven. Why do you have to be so young?
Anyway, time for work,
Jacks
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Hey, Nimrod,
Did it ever occur to you that it’s not exactly a picnic being so young? And lest you ever forget it, I’m only three years younger than you are. That’s not THAT big of a difference, so I don’t see why you’re whining about it.
For your information, I’m not driving everybody here crazy. Adele even says I’ve been on my best behavior lately. She’s laughing at your predicament right now. We both think that it’s funny that you’re so whiny.
And if you got fired, it’s your own problem, buddy. Don’t pin it on me. I never wanted to spend three years working for you, but I’m selfish. Besides, it was your deal in the first place. You offered it, I took it, and now you face the consequences. Stop whining so much. You like your sister. You told me so yourself, that time we were hanging out after you sent me to deliver the message to the mob boss.
I stay in New York City with Evan for break in the summer, so maybe we can hang out then. If you’ll believe it, I actually miss our little banter arguments. And don’t let my letter get you down—I’m just blowing off steam.
All my love (yes, that’s sarcasm),
Crin
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Crin,
You always had a way with words. Now I’m fighting depression as well as a stomachache. Yes, I went against Sheila’s advice and ordered the chicken wings at Red’s, the local eatery (since neither of us can cook, we’re living on a steady diet of takeout and pizza).
Did you know that there are exactly fourteen people living in Paddywallow, Kansas? I didn’t either until a couple of days when they dropped me on my posterior there without even so much as a "Thank you, Jacks, for the six years of your life that you’ve dedicated your every moment to us." Nope. One minute I’m up in my nice, cozy heated office—and the next minute, I’m flat on my rump in a little town in Kansas that nobody’s ever heard of. To add insult to injury, Dad refused to wire me any money, so I had to hitchhike across Missouri to St. Louis and catch a 747 down to the family home in Florida. Up until this week, I have never had such a deep respect of just HOW scary truckers can be.
I forgot one thing about my family home—there’s still family there. Like my mother. The woman’s evil, I tell you. The instant I got inside, she started demanding why I’d sullied the Templeton name by getting kicked out of Limbo. Apparently, cousin Ernie was turned down for the position as well, so the Templetons are officially not in charge of Limbo anymore. Mom’s furious and Dad’s amused. Bobby’s a pain, but if we could stand each other, then life as we know it would end. Besides, Mom likes it better when we hate each other, so that she can work her poisonous little charms and end life as we know it.
I’m not bitter, though.
Anyway, from there, I found myself shipped to New York on a late-night Greyhound. Sheila was almost late meeting me at the bus station. What with setting everything up with the local university, starting my new job at Fen’s (which is a honest-to-goodness strip club), I’m afraid I haven’t had two minutes to rub together. They say New York City never sleeps—well, they weren’t lying, that’s for sure.
Is Adele still your only friend? Geez, that’s pathetic.
Jacks
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Hey,
Do you not have ANY friends here on good old earth, or something? Why are you always bothering ME? What, did I end up on the wrong number for some cosmic game of Roulette or something?
For your information, I have plenty of friends, and they’re phenomenally less annoying than you are! They don’t whine anywhere near as much, for one thing. Boohoo, you were the most powerful person in Limbo for six years, and now you’re back on earth without anybody who cares except for a stripper older sister and a fifteen-year-old boarding school student in Massachusetts. Wow. Looking back at it, that last sentence sounded really cruel. We snipe at each other even in our letters.
But seriously, Jacks. Why are you writing me? We had a business deal, and yeah, I know I was the only live person you talked to for three years. But you’re human again. Back on this wonderful planet we call home, where you don’t have to wait two years to get the hockey games on prime time cable. Time to be moving on, don’t you think? Go out. Get some friends. Enjoy yourself. Go be that lawyer guy I know you’ve wanted to be since you were fifteen.
Just don’t drink. I don’t want to even imagine you drunk.
By the way, Adele and I were wondering about something the other day. If I end up in Limbo again, can I use your name as a "Get out of Limbo free" pass? Or are you on the bad-people list now?
Friends are good, Jacks. Get some, okay?
Crin
