My Dear Cara,
wrote the Asp,
Your charms are truly limitless, your joys well
beyond the reach of my crass, cold adjectives.
I hope that you value every cell of your blazing,
flowing body; I hope that every time you strip off
your clothes at night, the stars brighten in the
sky above, so that every creature lurking in the
darkness around you may witness more fully your
Now that you are in the fifth grade, you
have doubtless begun wondering about your body:
what this and that are for, how they'll change,
how they formed, and so on. Since your body is
quite complex and full of mysteries still baffling
even to the most sophisticated scientists, I'll
explain only your vulva (yes, sweet one, that
wonderous flesh-riddle, that sandwich of
eerie secrets waiting -- for what? -- between
You may have discovered by now that it
is, in fact, a monster. This is no great secret.
It is the mouth of a parasitic beast that has
lodged itself most stubbornly into your body.
This should not terrify you, my sweet, for
the monster is well aware that it relies upon
you for energy and for a habitable
environment. Soon, in fact, its primitive
conscience will begin to ache, and it will
grudgingly offer to pay you rent for the use
of your body. Since these vulva monsters
exchange no currency, it will pay you in
monthly supplies of its own blood.
Unfortunately, this is entirely useless to
you. In fact, it's worse than useless:
it will be truly inconvenient.
But the universe, my glimmering child,
operates on a principle of ethical equilibrium:
Karma, some call it: the evils we do are
mirrored back to us. And thus the vulva-monster
inside you has another monster dwelling within
it. The mouth of that sub-parasite is, in fact,
the mouth that you speak through; your clever
body has adopted it as a useful organ; in a sort of
symbiotic exchange of service for nourishment,
you feed it, and it allows you to speak through
Thus, my child, you are really three
living creatures bound up in each other,
each secretly desiring to slay the others, to
finally be self-sufficiently alone. The brain
you assemble thoughts with is really the
fermenting feces of the sub-parasite; the
vapor escaping the rotting crap is what you
grandiosely call 'thinking.'
Where does that leave you? How right you
are to ask! For clearly the wretched monsters
living within you must, as soon as possible, be
slaughtered without mercy. This is so because your
vulva was recently seen -- by none other
than myself -- attempting either to mate with or
destroy a parking meter by engulfing it like a
large, hairless mit and drenching it in strange
fluids (perhaps pickling juices of some kind).
This occurred several nights ago while you slept;
I imagine the sub-parasite's manure distracted you
with a colorful and absurd dream or two. I
must caution you that Nevada Penal Code Section
432.99(b) proclaims that "if a citizen's vulva-monster destroys or renders ineffective or
unreadable a publicly-owned parking meter, whether
for purposes of reproduction or effacement,
such citizen will be held fully liable for cost of
repairs or replacement, whichever is more,
regardless of citizen's state of mind or degree
of cooperation with the culpable vulva-monster."
Perhaps you have heard your vulva-monster's
speaking voice? If so, I certainly hope that you
have not degraded yourself by conversing with it.
If not, let me assure you that its voice is sickly
and wretched, like the screeching of tortured
rats -- and let me assure you further that it has
no kind words to say about you. Please remember
that if it should ever address you -- even if
simply to ask for a small cash loan, or to borrow
a few postage stamps -- you must ignore it.
But what will be left of you -- and
what you have ignorantly thought of as your
"body" -- once your vulva-monster and the
cunning sub-parasite are surgically removed?
Very little, I'm afraid. Your penis will
re-emerge from within the few organs that
are actually yours (basically, you are equipped
with organs for processing raw vegetation and
converting cabohydrates into pure waste; organs
designed to send out poison gasses should you
ever be attacked; and organs that cause you
to bray pathetically when abandoned). However,
since you are not male, your penis will not
work at all. Some fully-restored women choose
to attach attractive jewelry to their penises,
but this is a personal esthetic decision to be
made by your priest and your parents.
So you see, my darling wonder-child, it
is your duty to cooperate with law enforcement
agents and religious leaders in restraining and
destroying your fiendish vulva-monster. In
your post-purification stage you may appear
to be nothing more than a ruinous mass of
chilly flesh, a desert of barren cells,
stripped forever of the intoxicating drives of
instinct: but, let me assure you, we never
expected much from you to begin with.
Through an x-ray monitor we watched in
anguish as you -- in your fetal stage -- were
attacked by the fierce aquatic monsters
lurking in your mother's polluted, horror-infested
womb. The creatures burrowed into
your tender, defenseless flesh and became
inextricably fused with your body. This
happens to many girls, my child; you are
Your surgery will be administered in
the cafeteria one morning next week.
Your physical education teacher will monitor
the operation to ensure that you are treated
in a humane, dignified manner. We will not
tell you in advance which morning you will
be operated on since that would give your
vulva-monster and the sub-parasite an
opportunity to flee.
If you attempt to resist the surgeon-priests,
you will be summarily executed.
Please have no doubt, my gorgeous
young flower, that we care for you more than
words can express. Your happiness is our
foremost concern. Drenching you with the
warm nectar of our love is our sole purpose.
With that in mind, you must not resist.
Proof-reading his work, the Asp
smiled radiantly. Cara would be so charmed
by his note! The Asp signed the letter
in light green ink with a curling, looping
nonsense word, then printed at the bottom of
Federal Bureau of Investigation:
Vulva Surveillance Division.
The Asp folded the note, put it in a
small Valentine's Day envelope, and stuck it
half-way under the cover of Cara's social
science book. He replaced the book in her
Hearing the dizzy, joyous cries of
children echo in a distant hall as they
returned from recess, the Asp raced out of
the classroom and fled into the street.