Microstory 893: Letters to the Shredder

< > Table of Contents

Are you lonely? Separated from your loved ones? Frustrated with your life, but you don’t know how to release your emotions in a healthy manner, with no consequences? Well, introducing Letters to the Shredder. Many studies have shown that the act of writing your feelings down on paper can be cathartic on its own. You don’t even have to send it, and sometimes...you shouldn’t. Tell that special someone how much it disgusts you when they chew with their mouths open, or how ugly you think their favorite outfit is. Or what about that jerk of a boss who makes you clock out, but stay late and help him with a “personal favor”? But don’t send it to them, because that could ruin your relationships. Instead, send it to us, and we’ll destroy it for you. Sure, you could try to throw it away yourself, but who wants that risk in their lives? You’ve seen the sitcoms. Someone inevitably finds something they were never meant to see, and hilarity ensues. But reading someone else’s mail is a federal offense. So go ahead and write down how you really feel, and we’ll take care of it for you. All of our highly trained shredding professionals are legally blind, and couldn’t read your letters, even if they wanted to. We promise to not even open the envelope. Each letter is collected by a team of specialists, and goes straight from the mail tub to our locked barrels, where they are quickly dumped by a second team in our state of the art shredding equipment. Seriously, we destroy literally all our mail. We’ve still not decided how to handle mail we’re not meant to shred, like our own electric bills, and general correspondence. I’m pretty sure my daughter’s high school diploma is a pile of confetti right now. Most shredding companies turn your sensitive documents into strips of paper that can be easily reassembled by anyone with an IQ over 210. We turn ours into a fine dust that would be impossible to decipher, so you can be rest assured your angry rants will never see the light of day once you send it to us. So what are you waiting for? Say what you would like to say to someone else, but know you can’t. We’ll make sure your private thoughts both have an escape, but also can’t come back to haunt you.

Microstory 888: A Letter Home

< > Table of Contents

Hey, honey, I miss you, and I can’t wait to see you when we finally get back. I’m having a lot of fun here, but I wish you could have come with us. This trinary system is more interesting than we thought. We went to this one world that you are not going to believe. The scientists gave us this long-winded explanation that I couldn’t follow. She said something about the temperature of the planet, and the composition of the atmosphere. She hypothesized that the ocean didn’t form like this exactly naturally, but somehow transformed from fermentation brought upon by evolutionary fascinating microorganisms that she can only postulate exist. She wanted to stay and study the phenomenon more, but it was a pretty hostile environment, and we weren’t really equipped for a long term survey. Besides, there weren’t any resources, so it wasn’t like we would have gotten much out of it. She was allowed to take a few samples back to the ship, though, so maybe we’ll learn a thing or two about how the universe works. I wanted to take a few samples of my own, because I think it’s cool that that we found an ocean made of alcohol, but the captain ordered us to stay away from it. I imagine she’s worried I’m going to try and drink it, which would be outrageous, but I understand where she’s coming from. So we moved on. The next planet we came to—the one we’re still orbiting right now—showed unusually specific signs of civilization. We found no ruins, nor any ancient artifacts. There weren’t any petrified specimens, or bones. We only know that someone must have been there at some point, whether it was that species’ home planet, or not. We only found a single structure on the entire surface, or underneath at a depth of fifty kilometers, so we guessed it served as some alien outpost at one point. The rest of it appeared to be completely untouched by anything beyond some weird plantlife. There were computers and other instruments in the structure. They allowed us to not only control the weather, but also the composition of the atmosphere. We turned up the oxygen to help us breathe a little easier, but there is still so much to learn. Oh my God. Oh my God, sweetie, that’s it. How did we not think of this before? We need to move these machines over to the alcohol ocean planet. That’s the one with an atmosphere that needs to be adjusted. Okay, I gotta go, but I’ll send you another message tomorrow. Love you, don’t cheat on me!

Microstory 19: Love Letter

My dearest love, I write to you through tears of heartbreak. It has been still less than a week since I have seen you, but I feel every torturous second. There is a hollowness inside; a hunger to have you returned to me. Sometimes I pass by your place. I yearn to go inside, to feel you with my tongue. But I know that I can’t. I know that you need more time. No, that isn’t true. It isn’t you. It’s me. I’m the one who needs time. I see now that I need to give you space. A collision of our two forces is powerful enough to destroy the universe ten times over. We cannot be together too long. It would be, as they say, incredibly unhealthy. But perhaps they are wrong, do you think? I cannot concentrate without you. You are perfect. You are my everything. Let me take you away from your life. You belong out of that kitchen, away from them. I can give you a good home. I will never leave you. I cannot wait to see you tomorrow, my love, Chipotle burrito.

Stay tuned for a bonus microstory to be posted later today.