Reader Mail "Dear Sir, Having been orphaned at an early age and raised by a C.H.U.D. family beneath Market and Castro, I am outraged at the implication that all sewer dwellers are cannibals! It is well known that only the Tenderloin cabal enjoys the occasional disoriented tramp. I myself have never "unceremoniously eaten" a fellow anybody. For your information, our rituals are very elaborate and steeped in the rich history of our subterranean abode. Why, just the other day I had my C.H.U.D. fiancé over for a lovely hobo hock stew served with a subtle gray water Chablis, garnished with whopper wrappers. In short, Mr. Monkey, you have offended me and offended the proud C.H.U.D. peoples. We demand an apology, sir, and would be happy to have you over for a quiet get together, say, by the sewer grate at the corner of 15th and Valencia? about 8ish? Be there or be square...or, if possible, both. And bring Gus. He sounds delic- [ahem] delightful. Sincerely, Dear Mr. Robertson (if that is your real name), This is not the first time I have been accused of being an anti-C.H.U.Dite, and quite frankly I have no intention of denying the charge. Back in '48 my Grandpa fought side by side with the Mole People to wipe the scourge of your kind off the face of the earth. His only regret as he lay on his deathbed? Only that some of you remained alive. That, and never making it to Disneyland, but mostly it was the you living thing. And what of that nice cobbler I put out on the window sill this weekend? Disappeared, stolen by one of your C.H.U.D brethren. The joke was one you though. I only used human flesh as a garnish! An unsatisfying meal I'll bet. The time for your people's reign of terror has come to an end you putrescent vermin. You who think that just because we're so tasty and plump you can just abduct our spouses, children and the elderly for your crass consumption. You who believe that just because you possess preternatural abilities you can just pop out of the sewers willy-nilly and take our jobs. Mr. Robertson, let's just cut to the chase here. This faux "injury" of yours is nothing but a weakly veiled personal attack stemming from the fact that your soon to be bride and I had a summer fling after meeting at a mutual friend's party while she was attending Bryn Mawr. Jealousy is an ugly emotion Mr. Robertson and I'm sure you're ugly enough as it is. You knew she was "used goods" going in and now is no time to act as though you care you emotionless, flesh-eating freak. Perhaps she still calls my name at the height of passion? Tell me, does she ask you to do that thing with the gravy boat and then look disappointed when you do it all wrong? Ah Mr. Robertson. Ah life! It's clear to me that your life is an impotent misfortune. In fact, I almost feel bad for you. Of course, not bad enough to hold off on burning you and your hive to cinders. Your Faithfully, |