Sept. 26, 1957

I beg your pardon for the delay, but it has taken me a full day to recover my compusure
after subjecting myself to the stomach-turning ordeal of setting that cursed word down in
print.  Upon finishing that wrd my new pen began to assume a molten state and to emit
a sickening odor.  I disposed of it immediately by flinging ti in the lake which now, a day
later, is beginning to steam and boil.  Dead fish line the shore and a stench is in the air.
However, that is neither here nor there.  Back to the problem at hand.

Tom, I am shocked beyond words.  What more can I say?  The situation goes beyond
the capabilities of the English language.

And to think I respected and trusted you because of your high ideals, your command of
eastern barbarisms, etc.  What is to become of our fair country if pillars of the nation
such as yourself begin to crumble and rot, yes rot away.

What more can I say?  You have committed your statement into writing.  It looks like your
writing so I must conclude that there has been no forgery, especially since the entire letter
is written in your style - - an uncopyable style.  I know that nothing could make you say a
thing like that unless you meant it.  You could not have lost your senses sufficiently to cause
you to say it, because to say or write a thing like that you would have to be so far gone that
you could no longer write, speak, hold a pen, etc.  I estimate that you would have to regress
to the mentality of a 5 month old fetus before such a thought could come to you.  No, the
only explanation is that you were in earnest, and since you were, there is nothing more to say.
We are all doomed.  Once this leaks out and it will, because the scream I uttered when I
read that fateful line was recorded on seismographs as far away as the Newberry Library.
Such a scream can only mean one thing.

When the truth comes out, stocks will landslide, government will crumble, our economy will
be ruined.  I am buying Russian war bonds as fast as I can.

I will not condemn you for what you did.  Revenge belongs to God alone.

See you on Judgment Day - -  I never thought the end would come like this.  I hope the
postal service remains intact long enough for this to reach you - - you traitor, you Benedict
Machura, you Brutus.

Ceasar

Pardon the misspellings, faulty punctuations and inconsisitencies in the above epic.

It was written in a state of extreme shock and thus is not a fitting example of the author's
literary capabilities.