Dear Neighbors,
We’re happy to see another young family on the street. Despite some of the things I’m about to tell you, it really is a lovely place to raise a family.
Now don’t just take my word on this, but I do have it on good authority that before you moved into your house it was used as a secret CIA field office. I’d check the smoke alarms for cameras. And it seems like they dumped a bunch of feral cats in the neighborhood. I think they’re bugged too. If you see one, don’t say anything sensitive. Don’t let them in the house.
The local supermarket is stocked with poison. Everything’s formaldehyde and jet fuel and sugar these days. We can provide a list of local farms and butchers that we trust. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to find cows that aren’t genetically modified freaks of nature. (Don’t get me started on “wild” salmon.) We’re also really into raw milk, but you have to smuggle it across state lines.
The air is funny here. You’ll probably notice headaches after “cloudy” days—and a mysterious metallic aftertaste. Tumeric and fresh ginger and chlorella tabs can help.
You will probably see two men from out of town go door to door every so often. They are not Bible salesmen. They’re pest control. Do not under any circumstance let them spray anything in or around your house. Even if they say it’s free. They want to spray the soil with chemicals that’ll sterilize any chance of a viable garden. And the insect fogger they’d pump into your house causes amnesia. We encourage you to help us chase these men out of town whenever they show up.
That said, the mosquitos we get here are tiny little vampire drones. They collect blood samples. A bunch of us have a theory that it’s either for clone development or personalized bioweapons. Since the bats won’t eat them, I can lend you some wearable signal jammers till you get your own.
Under no circumstance should you drink the tap water. It will shrink your brain.
The “5G tower” grows taller every night. It’s either a charging station for fake birds or an ultrasonic weapon. The dogs bark at it constantly. It emits a high pitch frequency that will make your molars hurt. I have petitioned the mayor about its removal but have yet to hear back.
The landfill at the edge of town leaks orange sludge when it rains. Do not let the children near it. Furthermore, don’t let them catch any of the frogs in the lake near the landfill.
Fred lives in the yellow house adjacent to us. He has a good sense of humor… considering he can’t let any sunlight or water touch his skin—if you want to even call it skin. (You can see the blood in his veins. I’m sure your kids will stare, but Fred is used to it.) Anyway, we’ve set up a rotating schedule for who brings Fred breakfast, lunch, and dinner throughout the week. He likes to gossip. He has a lot of time on his hands, so don’t be alarmed if you see him watching from his living room window. (He’d laugh about me saying “time on his hands”—because they’re more like flippers with fingernails.)
I suggest doing your due diligence before choosing a church. There are as many heretics here as there are Feds… makes you wonder, right? There’s one “church” with a “pastor” on the payroll who does lap-dances at the library proselytizing underage hysterectomies.
There are two lovely elderly ladies, Blixa and Bargeld, who sit in the back of the diner on Main St. every morning. They can teach you how to can food and build homemade flamethrowers. They can pickle anything. Just keep in mind, if you don’t believe that the moon is an alien mothership, that’s fine, but I wouldn’t bring it up. I advise you to read about the treaty between Eisenhower and the Greys before speaking with them. (They both lost their husbands to abduction.)
Oh, and if you need any help furnishing the house, there are two rehabilitated serial killers-turned-Mennonites who build beautiful furniture for remarkably affordable prices—considering the quality. We can put you in contact with them.
If you need anything at all, please let me know. I’m free most of the week, but tomorrow I will be pretty busy desperately messaging a billionaire cyborg who dreams of colonizing Mars and who also wants to implant microchips into our brains. He says it’s to help the paralyzed walk and to give sight to the blind and hearing to the deaf. But I think he’s building an army of immortal cyborgs. I think he’s going to hijack the collective consciousness. He does share really funny memes though.
Sincerely,
Shane Cashman
P.S. If you’re anything like me, you’re probably looking at the pie and bouquet we left on your porch with some amount of skepticism. I swear neither are bugged—nor is there any poison. But don’t take my word. Feed a sample to one of the CIA cats first…
