Dear Kyle,
It has been seven days since I decided to eat you. It has also been seven days since you shot me in the leg and ran away from the plane with our only canteen.
It’s important to me that you understand that I did not reach the decision to eat you lightly. I’m writing you this letter because every time I try to visit you and explain my actions, you shoot me again. Maybe it’s because I’ve been sneaking up behind you carrying a knife and fork, but maybe it’s because we don’t communicate like we used to.
I really do see where you’re coming from with the not wanting to be eaten stuff. Admittedly, I may have jumped the gun a little by biting your arm all those times while the plane was still crashing. Please remember that unlike you, I hadn’t planned ahead and accepted the complimentary peanuts from the stewardess before the crash.
In your absence, I’ve made great strides in repairing the plane, though there have been some setbacks. I thought I had managed to reattach the broken wing, but it turned out that what I was actually doing was ripping off the good wing. The important thing is that I will soon have the knowledge I need to begin rebuilding the plane; I’ve found the co-pilot’s skull. By feasting on its innards tonight in a ritualistic ceremony (which you are, of course, invited to), I will become Lawrence Tanner, Copilot First Class of Island Airways.
Of course, it won’t all be fun and brain-eating. Once I become Lawrence Tanner I will take on not only his knowledge, but also his allergy to gluten and his complicated relationship with his children. No sir, it won’t be fun when I pilot our new coconut-powered plane onto the Tanner front lawn and have to tell his children that I’m their new daddy.
But I’ve run off-topic. In better news, I captured a wild boar that was tangled in a shrub near the wreck, and I set it on fire to make a signal light for our rescuers. So you can see, things are looking up here at the wreck, though I’m still desperately hungry. Tomorrow I plan on searching for more boars to replace this one with when the fire burns out.
I’ve also discovered several grape vineyards, which I’m now using as ink to paint warning signs around the plane wreck so you don’t trip and fall into the many bear traps I’ve constructed out of the plane’s emergency food rations.
Please come back home, Kyle. I’m very hungry, and I think that, together, we can find a solution.
Simon
