Dear Skye,

Starving artists? Bugger that. We are merely restocking over a long
period of time since we had Estach back in the Guild days. Everybody
knows that all we need to do is to draw a picture of a fruit salad and
we are automatically satiated.

Honestly, you total twonk, you can tell your reliable source to shove it
so hard that it pops out the other end and turns into a giant watermelon
on wheels. Our reliable source has bigger bits than yours and therefore
is certain to be correct because the coverage is larger.

Ha! I say! Or rather, write. In this particular medium. With incomplete
sentencing. Yes. HA!

Although I may be partial to a drink or several thousand after a small
meal, this by no way is the reason for the beginning of these rumours.
In fact, we are so fashionably cool because eating is so passe, so
pre-Selucarian, darling, that I can tell that it is beginning to have
its effect on you. Yes, all of you participants. ALL.

Blimey, this incomplete sentencing is rather what-ho Jiminy. Bloody
hell.

Either way, we are going to kick your arse, etc. etc., if not, throw
several out of tune musical instruments at you so they break in a
cacophonous melody of sorts, and then we still get our royalities.

Oh, and we are doing costumes. Did I mention that? Either way, my
vomit-stained imprint tells no lies on the end of this post.

So, spin on it, Gladys.

Yours, etc.,

Cardinal Xaviere Ximinez, Lady Moncrieff-Byron

Penned by my hand on the 17th of Mayan, in the year 432 AF.