An Open Letter to King Vortigano


If I could go back in time, I would. If I could go back and change everything, I swear, I would. But I can’t do that. That’s not how time works, and you, a 1000+ year old deceased king, should know that.

It’s time to make amends where we need to make amends. I know I robbed your tomb. I know you have sworn to curse me and my bloodline for all eternity. We both did something wrong to the other. I’m ready to own up to my flaws. Are you?

I Hereby Formally Apologize for Robbing your Centuries Old Tomb.

Are you happy? Is that what you wanted? Will that get you to stop? There. I apologized. I am sorry, and I really am sorry, for plundering your ancient tomb and stealing all of your belongings that were supposed to accompany you into the afterlife. I am sorry I got off of my tour group’s path during our tour of you country. I am sorry that I snuck into your tomb while my tour guide was leading everyone into the Einstein Bros’ Bagels. I am sorry that I got into the room with your tomb, and I am sorry for stealing as much gold as I did, and I am sorry for stealing every one of your pots and pans. They’re not even good pots and pans.


Yeah, these. Not microwave safe, as it turns out.

In my defense, you kept all of that stuff lying around, and I didn’t think I’d get an ancient king to curse me. If I knew you’d be mad or that you could curse me, I would not have done it. Honestly, I wouldn’t have. I wish I hadn’t now! I fucked up, alright?

But why am I the only one who has to apologize?

I’m not the one who caused your car’s engine to catch fire. I’m not the one who sent a large gust of wind into your front yard and cause one glass basketball hoop to fall through your car windshield. I’m not the one who made the girl in your chemistry class find you repulsive apparently because she stopped talking to you after like we had three weeks and I thought we hit it off but whatever. Your 15 year old Madden NFL 2002 franchise probably didn’t get corrupted.

You aren’t the one trying to find a cure in every religion within your little town that apparently only observes like three religions – and it takes a really long time to convert into Judaism as it turns out.

I’m the one who’s either gotta continue trying to pray in our little church for my cat to stop clawing my sheets up at the exact same time every afternoon, or who’s gotta buy sheets in bulk. Or potentially stop sleeping. Or get rid of the cat, maybe.


I take that back. I will not get rid of this majestic thing. Also it’s not my cat

I’ve said it already. But I’ll say it again – I am sorry for robbing your ages old tomb. I can give the jewels back. I will give the wooden dog back. I will give the petrified dog back. I cannot give your ancient saucepan back because that thing sucks and I threw it against a wall when I burned my Chef Boyardee in it. You’ll have to make do in the afterlife without it. I have to life in the duringlife without Chef Boyardee, so we’re even there. I have apologized twice, now. You don’t seem to have apologized at all.

So, Mr. Vortigano – or, your Highness Vortigano, or whatever, I will accept either of these two things:

  1. You apologize back to me and stop
  2. You leave me a small gift or something every now and then

If not, well… then… Alright, I guess. I don’t know exactly what else I can do.

About Joe Bush

The guy behind and a lot of other things
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