I sent this letter to my parents along with two issues of my zine. I don't know why I'm posting it.

It just like the reactions of reading it to friends and strangers.

Haven't heard from the parents yet...

Dear Mom and Dad,

So this is what I’ve been spending my time and money on lately besides alcohol. Issue 5 is the corporate issue where I got taken over and suppressed by my fictional company Stokenbeckers. I spent most of my efforts on this one to make it look cleaner and cluttered with ridiculous ads. #6 is my sloppy return to form that I threw together with spare parts. There are still some kinks that I need to fix but I figured fuck it, I’m impatient. I’ll just send the folks the nearly completed editions since I paid for them. I’ve learned something from reproducing these at Office Max. I hate photocopy machines. They never do what I want them to. They don’t make my pictures dark enough but they’ll show the strips of tape and borders of cut outs. They make me want to beat them and shout out curse words. But the employees don’t appreciate this. They tell me to leave and when I ignore them they call the police. When the fuzz shows up with their guns drawn I quickly grab mine thus a massive gunfight ensues with flakes of paper littering the sky along with chunks of printers I could never afford. One of the employees tries to make a break for it but gets caught in the crossfire. His head explodes like a gory pumpkin covering the officers and creating an opportune time to escape. I’m rambling now but I just want you to know that I didn’t puncture that poor clerk’s skull. Despite what the police and media may tell you. Anyway I’m on the run now. Gotta keep moving. Give my best to the rest of the family.

Love,

Jason

P.S. I think the both of you are completely insane. Get help.