To: rusami@omnimail.com
From: dorisjenkins11@darkshiremail.moors.omni
Dear Miss Usami
I say, what an awfully kind and generous offer you make, young lady... oh, you are a lady, aren't you? I'm sorry if that's a rude question, dear, but it's so hard to tell in the Omniverse, what with all these strange, foreign-sounding names. Not that I have anything against foreigners, of course, but you just can't tell what they're saying sometimes, what with the way they speak, even if Omni, bless him, does us the service of letting us all speak the same language, it can still be hard to tell what they mean sometimes through those thick accents. Anyway, enough about that. It really makes my old heart glad to see that there are still such nice young people around these days. You know, my next door neighbour's little boy never does anything like this. Oh yes, he'll be happy to barge his way through our yard whenever he's kicked that cursed 'soccer ball' of his over the fence, won't he, but if I were to ask him to fight a single monster whilst he was here, would he do it? Nooooo. Do you know what he did when I tried to ask him for help once? He stuck out his tongue and held up his middle finger towards me! Yes, I know, horrendous behaviour! I really don't know what to say, it is simply appalling, wouldn't you say? Still, we can't blame his poor mother, you understand. No, it's that deadbeat husband of hers who's the problem, always coming home smelling of alcohol and singing bawdy songs. It's disgraceful, I say. It's really no wonder that little boy acts out like he does. Now, my Timothy would never have behaved like that, Omni rest his sweet soul. Oh no, my husband Darrell and I raised him well, and he grew up into a fine young man, yes he did. He used to come over every Thursday to check for monsters in our back yard. Ever since Darrell had his hip replaced, he just hadn't been able to bend over as easily as he used to, and I'm sure it's only been getting worse as he gets older, and when the weather's wet, well, he can hardly walk, it gets so stiff, so he can't really get down and look under hedges properly, which means we can never be too sure there aren't any horrid little beasties hiding under there. Oh yes, Timothy was so good at dealing with them, I really don't know how he did it, I always just have to scream and run off whenever I see a monster, but he dealt with them no problem. It was such a sad day when we lost him, but he never would have wanted to see us suffer, so we've both tried our best to carry on, even though it can be hard some days. The worst thing was that he didn't even have time to start a family and give us any grandchildren before he was taken from us, at least then we would have had them around to help us cope after he passed. We warned him, though, Darrell and I both, we begged him not to go out and try to be a hero, but he was such a sweet boy. He just hated to see all the people suffering the threat of Dracula, so he and his friends – and they were such lovely young gentlemen too – all went out to fight that nasty man, but we never heard anything after that. It was as though they had all simply vanished into thin air. A terrible, terrible thing it was. Oh, I'm sure you don't want to hear an old biddy like me nattering on and on, though. What was it you had asked about, again? Oh. Oh, yes, I remember now. The monsters. Yes, I'm sure we must have at least a dozen... well, maybe half a dozen, of the little critters about the garden. Why just the other day... wait... it might have been the other week. Yes. Yes, I'm sure of it. It was just last Tuesday, I was out at the cockatrice pen feeding our Henrietta, Anita, Tabitha and Edith, our hens, well, three hens and a cock, actually; not long after Tabitha was hatched we discovered that she was actually a he, but we had already named him by then, of course, and we all got a little chuckle out of it, so the name stuck. Anyway, would you believe it, a horrid little wolpertinger dashed right out from under a bush and savaged poor Edith in its jaws. I was terrified for my life, of course, but thankfully my shriek of fear sent it running off back to its burrow, wherever that was, but it dragged Edith along with it, like she was some sort of chew toy. It was terrible, I tell you. I'm fairly sure one of our tulips ate the little blighter, though, since we found its bones lying scattered about their flowerbed the next day. You never can be too sure when more beasties will show up, though, and I'm sure we have a whole pack of brownies living somewhere in that yard; you can hear them singing at night sometimes. It sounds a lot like birdsong, but if you can tell that it's actually just a lot of very high-pitched curse words strung together. Disgusting creatures, they are. I swear they must have moved in just because they hold some sort of vendetta against Darrell just because he used to work as a pixie exterminator back in his younger days, before his sciatica started acting up. It wasn't the most well paid job ever, but someone has to do it, you know, it isn't like you can just allow those things to flutter about wild, after all. They breed like rabbits... no, like flies. Still, it meant he was never out of work, so we oughtn't complain too much, and between the two of us we made ends meet. I've always loved my cute little animals, though back then I ran a real farm, rather than just a little backyard coop. This was all before we arrived in the Omniverse, of course, I daren't even think what has become of the place since we left it. I really hope that someone moved in and took over, truly I do. It may have been free range – you'd never catch me doing any of that cruel, cruel battery farming, I tell you now – but even so, our little dears need a lot of looking after. People always imagine it's easy, but I'm sure you'd be surprised how difficult it can be working a cockatrice farm. Well worth it, of course, well worth it. They really are such lovely birds. In any case, I'm very glad to see that you and your friends are all so eager to help out around town, and I'm sure I could bake up a lovely batch of cookies for you all as reward if you were to come along and hunt down those blasted brownies for us. I know this might seem a bit extreme, but Darrell swears they're no real threat if you do the job right, so you needn't be worried, he'll be on hand to give you some helpful advice if you and your friends need it. Darrell says he would tell you all the intricacies of pixie (and other small fairy) hunting right now over this 'e' mail thing himself, except he doesn't really understand these new-fangled computery doo-dahs, which is why I'm the one writing to you rather than himself, but he worries that I might mess something up and tell you the wrong thing, so why not come over? Now, I can't actually give you my address, because Darrell says he read in one of the magazines that they sell in the corner store near our house that you have to watch out for 'hackers' on the Dataverse stealing all your personal information, and we certainly wouldn't want lots of nasty people coming over to our house and hacking anything down, I do hope you understand. It shouldn't be that hard to find us, though. Just walk around and ask everyone you meet if they know 'Doris' (that's me!) and I'm sure someone will be able to direct you here without me having to put any personal information on this Dataverse thingamabob. I haven't actually tried to find anyone this way since coming to Darkshire so I can't give you much of an estimate for how long it should take in a big city like this, but it was always quite easy in the little village we used to live in back before we arrived in the Omniverse, so it can't be that bad, I'm sure. Oh, and if you happen to pass the bingo club on the way here could you tell Susan I said 'hello'. Her daughter brought us these delightful hot cross buns a couple days past, and some scones too. Such a charming young lady, she would have been a great match for my Timothy if he hadn't passed on in such a tragic way. Anyway, thank you very much in advance.
Love,
Doris.
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