Levi: These are HILARIOUS emails that Mark and I sent to each other, making stuff up as we went. It started with me telling him that I quit using my hotmail email (even though I never had one...?) and that I would use Yahoo from then on. It just got more and more insane as it went on.
Note: We both came up with nicknames for each other a while back; Mark started calling me Da Levsta, and I caught on and started calling him Markus.
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madam levsta that makes no scense. why change from hotmail to yahoo? anyways you answer none of my questions!? why do you not answer the succulent questions of mark?
Indeed the questions were succulent, good sir Markus. However, they were not tender! You must slap them up with charbroiled cabbage sauce to get it to the right temperature. I hope this helps!
Oh but madam levsta it does!! now i can make the most delectible questions in all of france!!
No no no no! The sky is the limit, Sir Markus, but that does not mean you should revert to feeding the French! Their taste buds are exceedingly picky, and their ears are exceedingly prickly!
You know, your right!!! why feed the french!? they dont like my succulence? why feed them!! i say we open up our own law frim!! and with it, we ask the most tender, juicy, and downright saucy questions this hemishpere has ever witnessed!! i kan see it now!! you and me standing there with big southern moustaches, combing them!! and wearing chefs hats. Of course we are prematurly bald!! who cares!! we do get all the madens anyway right!! yes yes, i can see it now!
Myesssss... the moustaches will be so soft that I can finally sell my cat. I don't need him; he isn't even that soft anyway. But of course, we would live in a giant sausage, good Sir Markus. We can feed off of it for the next decade, and perhaps donate to the orphanage. The orphanage won't know what hit them!
but madam, would'nt you rather sell the sausage to feed the starving emo foundation? i mean, they are of course more grateful and elegent than those smarmie little orphans. if i were you, which i partly am; i would cook the sausage and attract women! yes of course! and those saucy mustaches!! it would real them in like fish to a flashlight! oh wouldnt we be the talk of the town!! of course! everyone knows how females LOVE a good sausage fair. oh yes, its a wonderful plan! your brilliant.
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Following this conversation, Mark asked me why I hadn't sent him a response in a long time. It turns out that I was in the moving process, and I had no access to a computer! However, every time I visited my Mom's place, I would send him an email.
Note: Daryl is Mark's best friend, whom is also my friend.
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madam levsta!!! why does he not respond to the messages!?
Sir Markus! I have no access to the computer, what with my relocation to the five mile radius of Sugar House! Our house has been war torn by the ferocious "Construction Manager" beasts. Floors are ridden with nails, paint marks stain the walls. Our communication with the outside world have been cut off, making me vulnerable. I, however, have a contraption that can keep me alive for the time being. It's called a Wiiiiiiiiii. Currently, I am taking temporary refuge at my mother's house, hoping to find some hope in survival. I have sent out many SOS messages! Have you not received any of them?
Alas, madam, I have received none. I believe our communication is being jammed by some evil, daryl-like creature. It is only a theory, but I believe in time he may attack one of us!! Making the other vulnurable! We must stop him before that happens! Although; today the beast has left home. I shall sneak in and see what i can dig up. If I have time; I wonder; I shall take down that beastly construction manager you have bragged such about. Release you from his gaze, and stab him in the back of the knee! Its a wonderful plan but it needs your locks of flowing hair. Distract that evil man while I sneak up on him! If you fail, it will mean the end of all hope for all of us! So take this sword to the deep fires of daryl's sandbox. There, you must find the courage to throw it in! If not daryl may get all fussy that theres a plastic sword laying next to his sandbox. Certain doom for all of us I presume. That is all my friend, have fun wii-ing all over the place, but dont get any on the couch, he hates that.
(Levi: OMG, I nearly puked in laughter after reading that.)
Have you forgotten that the back of his knee has been shielded by the shrapnel of the metals from my boom box's wires. Alas, I have never owned a boom box! How does he continue to create such malicious armories!? I have, however, found a way to weaken him. Only the tear drop from the fattest of hobos can lower his defences. Alas, hobos have little to eat! They are in rare occasions plump! I send you this plea to quest for the fattest hobo!
Myes, myes, I didn't forget about that knee, I was testing you to see your compatibility with a siemese cat. Congradulations, enjoy your date with that almost hairless cat. Alas, this fattest hobo crusade will surely weaken me. Perhaps I could scrounge up a servant boy while I bide some time with this construction manager. Hopefully I can give you enough time. Avenge your never owned boombox. For this shall be a great victory over the evil powers of the heavy laborers. They are strong, but I beleive with a few sacrifices of some race that no one likes, we shall be victorious. Seek me out. I shall wait in the sandbox of the fat one they call...DARYL!!! Grappling forever with that cat that has the voice of a thousand shattered windows. Come quick, he's very sassy.
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Well! That was pretty damn funny. I will update with more emails if I receive any more. We've just been at small talk recently.
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