letter to great-gramma

Dear Great-Gramma,

I love you! Things have been so crazy here, and I want to tell you all about it. First off, Patches and I got our minds merged with a telepathic space kraken a couple months ago. Then we helped hatch her babies. They are so cute!

On the way home, we ran into some creeps, and I killed the fuck out of them. Like, big time. I never saw an entire spaceship go out like that before! To make a long story short, Patches and Tarzi helped rescue some young ladies from a horrible fate, and I got to keep a few bad-ass weapons from an abandoned cyber-genetics lab.

Something’s not right about them, though. Tarzi’s cybernetic seahorse was nice enough and basically saved the day before he blew up, bless his little heart. But my electric eels and I sort of—okay. One thing led to another, and they made this maniacal killer cyborg out of my DNA.

It was totally heinous, Great-Gramma. I am so fucking traumatized over here! Can you even imagine?

Anyway, I killed that thing, too, and I can’t say I didn’t enjoy the scrap. But it fucked up Patches. Then Donny and Fuzzlow jumpstarted her with a shit-load of electricity, and she was like, “What? I’m totally fine.”

You should see her go. She’ll probably outlive my cranky old arse.

After hacking my eels to pieces, I ended up with one last crate of these freaky genetic experiments, and I might have sort of forgotten to mention it to anyone at the club. But that third crate has a real doozy in it. No, I didn’t even open it for Tarzi on the asteroid where we found it. It’s been a couple months, and I doubt anyone even remembers it.

I’m thinking it might be our little secret. Just you and me.

Like I said, I’ve got these baby octopuses to feed now, and—sorry, Great-Gramma. Celina says we’re almost home.

I miss you, and I can’t wait to see you again.


Yours Always,