An Open Letter to the Wolf Holding Me Captive

I know you know what I’m thinking.

I know you know English, and you know telepathy. If you had any question about whether or not I knew you know what I’m thinking at all time, let me clear the air.

Also, would you please clear the air. You’ve been burning some backlog of old IKEA furniture in the corner of the warehouse. The smoke’s ventilated enough and my lungs aren’t irritated, which I appreciate, but it’s so annoying and I can see the light that cracks through the windows all the way down to the floor, like an angelic ray of hope. Please get any and all rays of hope out of my sight, they make this so, so much worse.

I know you know that I’m writing this right now, with one hand cuffed to a shelf housing box upon box of old VCR parts and the other hand, my left one, of course, slamming against an old Windows 98 laptop you plugged in just in my own reach. You knew I’d be able to just barely reach it, too, which is even more evil on your part. You know I’m gonna go straight to my narcissistic-ass blog named after me and – by the way I’m thinking about making T-Shirts with the words to “Fight On You Kansas Hawks!” from that thing I wrote in June on them, if you’d buy one please let me know – and write something about how I’m chained to a shelf in an old VCR warehouse by some sort of old world magic, maybe demonic, wolf named Wûtsønnn, whose only intent seems to be tormenting me at the moment.

So, yes, I am chained in an old VCR warehouse by a wolf. I don’t know how I got here. But I’m here now, and that’s what matters, and that’s what I’m going to write about.

wolf in warehouse.jpg

This is the only picture I could get

Question 1: What did I do?

The issue I have with this instance where I’m stuck somewhere for hours on end in comparison to so many of the instances that get me in situations when I’m trapped somewhere for hours on end is that this instance seems to have no real lead-up. If I did something, I could accept this, but I never crossed you, Wûtsønnn. I never spoke poorly of your wolf father, or your wolf mother, or the band Wolfmother (though I heard “Woman” way too many times between 2005 and 2009, it was in like every video game or car commercial). I believe I did nothing to you.

And yet, still, you pace, and still, I sit here.

Question 2: What do you want with me?

I’m really not worth all that much to you. You’re a wolf. I’m a Humanities major, I used to be able to play the trombone but I’m pretty sure it’ll be a second before I can again, especially chained here, and I can make like five or six different foods really well. You’re an intra-dimensional wolf who will not free me. I promise I can’t give you anything. You can get such better food than me whenever you want. You don’t eat people, generally. But, still, I sit here.

Question 3: Why do you have so many VCRs?

I understand keeping one around for your old stuff, but this is sort of ridiculous. Also, I’m only seeing Stallone movies, a couple of bootleg Grateful Dead concert tapes, and the Sports Illustrated year-end tapes from like 1988-1996. Where are your TVs?

Question 4: Do you intend to kill me?

Really, just do it or don’t, at least tell me. Shoot up or shut up.

Question 5: Why did you install SimCity 4, and the expansion pack SimCity 4: Rush Hour on this laptop?

Like… This can’t be powerful enough to keep up with this. I’m not going to try it, but, like why is it there?

At this point, just do whatever you want, Wûtsønnn. Your VCRs cannot hurt me. Only you can hurt me, and I’m starting to assume you don’t want to.

And your Chip’s Challenge high scores are pathetic

About Joe Bush

The guy behind and a lot of other things
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