Eve! Mail me!

Eve, send me an E-mail. I need to talk to you.

homer@micoks.net

–Tim

Done, and done.

Eve and Homer?

Sheesh. Talk about Corned Beef and Roses…

Shhhh, Ike, Homer and I are planning your surprise birthday par . . .

. . . Oh, DARN.

Hell, if it’s that easy!

Eve, send me an E-mail. I need to talk to you.

Is this the line for Eve-mail? Fine, I’ll just wait. Dum-de-dum…

[How am I going to pull this off? I haven’t even bought any of her books. I know–I’ll say I own a big book store. Then, I’ll lock her in the room, set the CD player to autorepeat, and play “Sally Go 'Round the Roses” over and over and over again. Why? I don’t need a reason–I’m mad! Ha ha ha ha ha! And no one will suspect a thing, because I’m typing this with invisible pixels! And I’m invisible! Fools!]

Umm, my tin foil hat broke, and I understand the best refurbishers are in New York City. So there’s no reason to be suspicious.

Did I mention that I own a big book store?

Opps… left off my e-mail address:

inmate1823563@ncprisonforcriminallyinsane.gov

It was self-defense! They were all plotting against me! And the parrot was their leader!

By the way, the guy in the next cell thinks he’s Cecil Adams. Small world, huh?