Letters of Financial Woe and other Unexciting Tales...
Dear Neurons,
I have no idea why you keep paining me. Is it stress? Is it sunlight? Is it spectacularly bad posture? Is it some vitamin I've failed to provide? Please tell me so I can correct this foolishness; I have no wish to spend the coming months with icecubes clutched to my head.
Pained, your
Raven.
Dear Spirits of Finance,
When I though that it would be really bad if my sister's money did not appear in my bank, it was because I'd pledged surety to my father that she could repay the Tidy Sum he's just loaned her.
It was not in any way because I though it might be fun, amusing, or of any aid to anyone. My bastard bank is now likely to charge me for being overdrawn and my father has yet to get his money.
I, as usual, have no money anyway and a creditcard bill to pay.
I love you not.
Put the bastard money in my bastard bank account now so I have one less thing to get stabbing headpains about.
Thanks.
Yours in stress,
Corvid.
Dear HMS Customs and Parcel Force,
I did not appreciate your letter this morning informing me I had to pay £47 in VAT and Import Duty on some clothes I'd purchased from FarAwayLands for a Wolf's birthday. It's not my fault Britain is inadequate and does not provide me with the goods and services I need at a sensible price, and I must instead look to FarAwayLands and therefore undermine the economy.
I feel it is grossly unfair I must pay you for your inability to provide.
While we are on that subject I find it my place to inform you I am sickened by the £8 Clearance Fee the whoring sons of bastards at Parcel Force are charging me.
I pay them to deliver my goods to me. Why in the name of all that is unholy in this world must I pay them extra to not deliver my goods to me, but instead, open them, poke them, re-seal them and then hold them to ransom?
W-T-F'ing-F?
I don't have £55. Not even in pretend money. This has forced my Wolf to pay the ransom on his nameday giftings. Do you know quite how wrathful that makes me?
I hope that after you have delivered my parcel to me, you and all your offices all burn in flaming acid.
In great and furious anger,
Witch.
Dear Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab
You're very strange. But quite cool.
Thank you for my free sample of something unpronounceable. That was very thoughtful of you.
But dear gods - mint?!
In delight and consternation,
(writing on behalf of various personalities)
Wraith
Dear Corvidic One,
I know the world does not often turn to your liking.
None the less, please stop being a mopey bitch and attempt instead to be happy about what is going right in your life, scant though it may seem.
Also please think up plausible and practical ways to get money within the next week. Otherwise we may be forced to cut up your credit card. (This means no travel, no shinies, no sushi and no whiskey. Bad, see?)
With good wishes,
Neurons.
I have no idea why you keep paining me. Is it stress? Is it sunlight? Is it spectacularly bad posture? Is it some vitamin I've failed to provide? Please tell me so I can correct this foolishness; I have no wish to spend the coming months with icecubes clutched to my head.
Pained, your
Raven.
Dear Spirits of Finance,
When I though that it would be really bad if my sister's money did not appear in my bank, it was because I'd pledged surety to my father that she could repay the Tidy Sum he's just loaned her.
It was not in any way because I though it might be fun, amusing, or of any aid to anyone. My bastard bank is now likely to charge me for being overdrawn and my father has yet to get his money.
I, as usual, have no money anyway and a creditcard bill to pay.
I love you not.
Put the bastard money in my bastard bank account now so I have one less thing to get stabbing headpains about.
Thanks.
Yours in stress,
Corvid.
Dear HMS Customs and Parcel Force,
I did not appreciate your letter this morning informing me I had to pay £47 in VAT and Import Duty on some clothes I'd purchased from FarAwayLands for a Wolf's birthday. It's not my fault Britain is inadequate and does not provide me with the goods and services I need at a sensible price, and I must instead look to FarAwayLands and therefore undermine the economy.
I feel it is grossly unfair I must pay you for your inability to provide.
While we are on that subject I find it my place to inform you I am sickened by the £8 Clearance Fee the whoring sons of bastards at Parcel Force are charging me.
I pay them to deliver my goods to me. Why in the name of all that is unholy in this world must I pay them extra to not deliver my goods to me, but instead, open them, poke them, re-seal them and then hold them to ransom?
W-T-F'ing-F?
I don't have £55. Not even in pretend money. This has forced my Wolf to pay the ransom on his nameday giftings. Do you know quite how wrathful that makes me?
I hope that after you have delivered my parcel to me, you and all your offices all burn in flaming acid.
In great and furious anger,
Witch.
Dear Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab
You're very strange. But quite cool.
Thank you for my free sample of something unpronounceable. That was very thoughtful of you.
But dear gods - mint?!
In delight and consternation,
(writing on behalf of various personalities)
Wraith
Dear Corvidic One,
I know the world does not often turn to your liking.
None the less, please stop being a mopey bitch and attempt instead to be happy about what is going right in your life, scant though it may seem.
Also please think up plausible and practical ways to get money within the next week. Otherwise we may be forced to cut up your credit card. (This means no travel, no shinies, no sushi and no whiskey. Bad, see?)
With good wishes,
Neurons.