Dear Reader,

You are probably wondering what this thing is.

Not too long ago, a man named Kevin Dickinson, who had made his living selling those little plastic caps you put on your toothbrush when you go on vacation, was hit by an ice cream truck. The doctors said he wouldn't live. One doctor, though, thought he would live, and told this to all of the other doctors, but they found out he was the janitor wearing surreptitiously acquired scrubs. Fortunately, Mr. Dickinson survived the hard hit from Mr. Softee and was released from the hospital in less than a month with three casts and a lollipop.

Precisely two weeks later in his New Jersey home, Mr. Dickinson was reported to have believed he was Abraham Lincoln. Similar reports detail his sporadic hippopotamus behavior and consumption of vast portions of the lawn. Soon after he was admitted to a psychological ward, where he has since been under my care.

The letters you find on this site are the product of his free time in the hospital, where he is given pencils and paper, under close supervision, to stimulate his brain. Do not be deceived by the quantity of output he has produced, as he shows no signs of progress and is not likely ever to be released from the sanatorium.

I have reproduced his work here for the sake of scientific study. Current data shows disturbing trends in the work, but more research is needed to establish a corollary between the ice cream truck and the letters.

For now, we can only hope for a cure.

Sincerely,

Richard B. Mason
Caretaker