Letter for Forgiveness
Dear Arthur,
I'm sorry I killed you. You, the great grandson of my grandmother's yucca plant, and how have I treated you? Like a laboratory rat.
I'm sorry I gave you all that vitamin B. I'm sorry I thought it would help you grow a brain. I only did it because I was so wretchedly lonely. I now understand the plight of Dr. Frankensteins everywhere. When confronted with the possibility of making the perfect partner, we just can't resist.
I'm sorry I didn't expose you to direct sunlight for all those weeks. I thought the vitamins would make up for it. And the Dasani water. Maybe Evian would have been better, but it's too late to think of what might have been. Rather, I must move on and accept what has happened.
Should I feel guilty, Arthur? Should I allow this weight to press me down so? I am the one who potted you and brought you miles and miles from your home. I am the one who didn't sing to you or tell you stories to keep you entertained. And, ultimately, I am the one who subjected you to sadistic experiments involving your growth rate as affected by various styles of rock music.
I am sorry, Arthur. So very, very sorry. I don't know why I though urinating on you would help matters. It probably only made it worse, by increasing the acidity of the soil. But did I listen to what I already knew? No. Like any good mad scientist, I ignored scientific fact altogether. But the monster I created was myself.
I murdered you, Arthur. They're calling me the Butcher of Muncie.
And I deserve it, Artie! I deserve it all! I throw myself at your mercy, as you lie decomposing in the sweet, sweet ground that could have saved you had I placed you in it only a week sooner! Can you ever forgive me for what I've done? Can any repentance be enough for surrendering your supple, green body to my malignant sense of megalomaniacal science?
No; my sin has been to great. You will always haunt my dreams, Arthur, always. There can be no forgiveness for me.
Damned,
Alex Mattingly
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Alex Mattingly killed Arthur. Murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer.
I'm sorry I killed you. You, the great grandson of my grandmother's yucca plant, and how have I treated you? Like a laboratory rat.
I'm sorry I gave you all that vitamin B. I'm sorry I thought it would help you grow a brain. I only did it because I was so wretchedly lonely. I now understand the plight of Dr. Frankensteins everywhere. When confronted with the possibility of making the perfect partner, we just can't resist.
I'm sorry I didn't expose you to direct sunlight for all those weeks. I thought the vitamins would make up for it. And the Dasani water. Maybe Evian would have been better, but it's too late to think of what might have been. Rather, I must move on and accept what has happened.
Should I feel guilty, Arthur? Should I allow this weight to press me down so? I am the one who potted you and brought you miles and miles from your home. I am the one who didn't sing to you or tell you stories to keep you entertained. And, ultimately, I am the one who subjected you to sadistic experiments involving your growth rate as affected by various styles of rock music.
I am sorry, Arthur. So very, very sorry. I don't know why I though urinating on you would help matters. It probably only made it worse, by increasing the acidity of the soil. But did I listen to what I already knew? No. Like any good mad scientist, I ignored scientific fact altogether. But the monster I created was myself.
I murdered you, Arthur. They're calling me the Butcher of Muncie.
And I deserve it, Artie! I deserve it all! I throw myself at your mercy, as you lie decomposing in the sweet, sweet ground that could have saved you had I placed you in it only a week sooner! Can you ever forgive me for what I've done? Can any repentance be enough for surrendering your supple, green body to my malignant sense of megalomaniacal science?
No; my sin has been to great. You will always haunt my dreams, Arthur, always. There can be no forgiveness for me.
Damned,
Alex Mattingly
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Alex Mattingly killed Arthur. Murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer.