Behold! Slipper Ransom - Ransom Letter 1

Tonight I'm going to start a multi-post series called Behold! Slipper Ransom. If you know me, this isn't weird at all, although it probably does warrant an explanation. Last Tuesday, Aunt Bev was here. She always puts her slippers on while she's here, and in doing so, she left one behind. I could have nicely taken it to her when we headed past her house on Friday, but I decided that just wasn't funny enough, so I came up with the idea to write her ridiculous and bizarre ransom letters for shits and giggles.

I sent the first letter from my Blackberry on Wednesday morning. Don't be fooled, this was not my original idea, but a product of being bored on the hour car ride to the doctor's office and needing something to amuse myself with. Thus, the first ransom letter was born.

We have your slipper. We shall not return it until you meet our demands. We expect payment in the form of six Twinkies, three environmentally friendly reusable shopping bags, an original vinyl copy of the Beatles' song Hey Jude, and a crazy, funky hat.

This is how things will work. You are to put the requested items in a blue purse with dancing birds on it. The purse may not be of any other color, and the birds MUST be dancing. Musical notes coming from the birds' mouths will also be delightfully accepted, but are not mandatory. All items must fit in said aforementioned purse; you may not buy more than one purse to place the items inside of, no exceptions. You will drop these items off at exactly 12:07 a.m. at Gloria's strip club. Go inside, do a one minute hoedown in front of the first bouncer you see, and then ask for Big Man Dan. He'll be the one wearing the pink thong and leather stilettos. He may look a little shady, which is why you don't give the purse to him. He may be tempted to keep it for himself, and then you will never see your precious slipper again. Instead, you shall simply shake his hand three times, do the hokey pokey with him, and end in the handshake as seen by Will Smith on The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, all without putting the purse down. Then, sanitize your hands. You will then go back outside and use the code word "Snarfalarfacus" to the three hundred and eighty pound doorman. You must not laugh as you say this, for it is his true name, and he will crush you like a bug. After he spends an uncomfortable amount of time comparing your face to the picture of you he will be given, you will hand him the purse, he will thoroughly check the goods, eat one Twinkie, and then hand you your slipper in an unmarked, plain black garbage bag.

Don't try anything funny and make sure the purse is zipped in case of inclement weather. If my Twinkies are soggy, I will be pissed, yo. In the event that you try to send someone else or everything requested is not present, you will be required to go on no less than six dates with Snarfalarfacus at the biker bar of his choice, and you will never see your dear slipper again. It will be donated to the Men and Women With One Peg Leg Foundation. I encourage you to choose your actions wisely.

But seriously, we'll be coming out your way Friday and will drop off your slipper.

In retrospect, I shouldn't have added the last part, but I was trying to be nice. Note to all ransom holders, it doesn't pay to be nice. Literally. You get nothing back. You become ignored. Thus why I knew I had to take action, prompting me to send a second ransom letter. More about that in the next post.

And for all of you wondering where Snarfalarfacus came from, the iPhone apparently auto-corrects "that's what she said" to "that's what she snarfalarfacus." I had to use it somewhere.