To: You wannabe do gooders in Hobroken
From: The lower nether regions of the sewers, aka, I'm here at Hobroken411
Subject: This talking back bullshit
I understand that many of you have in the dead of night gone out of your way to make some sort of monetary contribution to this dirty dozen defence fund for beagles. While I've heard that dumb lame war horse is extremely grateful on behalf of those wretches, my alter ego suggested I pass along a warning:
WE'RE GOING TO GET YOU!
We decide when you can speak, when you can write a letter to the Hudson Distorter, when you can vote, how much you will be paid to do so and who you will vote for.
Have you gotten the message yet?
So to all of you who think you can take on my checkbook, watch as I destroy the living shit out of everyone who stands between me and my minions' way.
No one questions me or my benevolence to the City of Hobroken. If I want to bankrupt this town, I'll do it. In the meantime, know that if I so choose I will use my minions to bankrupt you.
That is all. Now go in peace and STFU like your wimpy council members. I'll threaten whoever I want, when I want. That's how me and my Old Guard friends roll.
With all my benevolence and mercy,
P.S. Whatever you do, don't give a nickel more to that dirty dozen. If you do, we'll have our interent jackals scour every every computer, every handheld device, and every internet connection in the City of Hobroken.
My political operatives/innocent journalist friends who are not paid for friendship will sue you all?
Legal mumble jumbo: All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. If you don't like it, you can kiss my horsey ass.