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Rejection letters, correspondence, and miscellanea from the otherwise empty annals of the Journal of Universal Rejection.

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Thursday, September 29, 2011

Farewell to Velociraptors

Dear readership:

Thank you for the outpouring of sympathy regarding our velociraptor infestation.  For example Tinoco said...
"I reject your attempt at alarmism! Probably nothing more than a bunch of playful buitreraptors… or even flamingos…"

Even our esteemed coeditor Sonia Lyris was clearly worried out of her mind when she opined... "Yikes.  What does that mean in the common lingo?"

Well I assure you they were velociraptors, and--what's more--they ate one of our editors.  I won't bother saying which one.

But the good news is we've gotten them to go.  It's a long story, but I won't bore you with the details.

Okay, maybe just a few.

It was a stormy night.  I had just gotten back to the office after buying some corndogs.  Parked near the entrance of the office was a suspicious-looking bus, and--inside the bus--three velociraptors.  They came at us fast, and we just whisked in the front door before their killing claws were scraping at it.  Thank goodness I got the double-bolt fire door and our windows at Reprobatio Certa are made out of pure lead.  I immediately called the Journal of Universal Rejection office (separate from Reprobatio Certa's), and only heard the shrill shrieks of velociraptors devouring our archives and stabbing at our super-fancy computers.  But the one that had answered the phone soon hung up and there was silence on the line until someone came on and said "If you'd like to make a call, please hang up and try again.  If you'd like to make a call, please hang up and try again.  If you'd like to make a call, please hang up and try again."  Then I hung up.

Then they came, the rest of the 14 of the velociraptors, and made a campfire outside Reprobatio Certa.  Every once in a while one would come and shriek at the front door.  After a few days I realized that they were shrieking and stabbing in Morse code.  The leader was telling me his story.

Here follows the story of the band of 14 velociraptors.  I missed the first few years because I didn't realize about the Morse code until too late, but I have made up a story to fill in that bit.

The velociraptors lived in a happy commune on an Isle they called Pumpkin Island (most likely because it was entirely covered with pumpkins).  I think the pumpkins were made out of meat and that is all the velociraptors ate, except for the occasional buitreraptor and flamingo.

After a while the velociraptors became zombies.  It was at that point they began to want brains.

Many centuries passed.

The band of 14 zombie velociraptors terrorized Pumpkin Island for awhile, but soon they all fell down into a cave after a night of drinking too much pumpkin liqueur.

Many centuries passed.

In 1859 Alfred Vail, the coinventor of the telegraph fell into the cave and taught the velociraptors Morse code before they ate his large brain.

Next the cave was explored by coal-miners who didn't like the velociraptors because they (the miners) keep having their brains eaten by them (the velociraptors).  They (the miners) decided to let them (the velociraptors) out of the cave.

After that the velociraptors bought a large bus and drove to take over the Journal of Universal Rejection and Reprobatio Certa and try to eat our brains.

Some time passed, and we who were barricaded in Reprobatio Certa ate all the baked beans that we had stored for exactly such a situation.  The air grew stale.

So, to get to the point.  I have convinced, very cleverly, the velociraptors to leave.  How?  I let them read the entire contents of Reprobatio Certa (which I passed to them through a slip under the door on slip of baked-bean-can wrapper).

The velociraptors decided there were no brains to eat here.

So they left.

If you see a large bus full of velociraptors, be warned.  They are also zombies.




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