Dear Todd,

Please stop pranking my dad. He thinks the walkie-talkie you hid in his room is the voice of God. You know how religious he is. I admit, it was funny when you told him to buy Whiteclaws for Kathy’s party because ‘God was feeling thirsty.’ But this has gotten out of hand. Last week, you made my dad tell the principle that I had ‘ball mumps,’ and that the nurse needed to apply chafing cream to my thighs every two hours. Now everyone thinks I have a gross rash. Please stop taking advantage of my Dad’s religion and ineptitude with technology.

The worst thing was on Monday, when you told him he needed to kill me. What kind of Hannibal Lecter bullshit is that? Telling a father he needs to kill his son? That was pretty messed up man. He spent all of Tuesday sharpening a kitchen knife and silently crying. He kept kissing me on the forehead and telling me I was God’s greatest gift. Then he started muttering stuff like ‘the blood of the damned will baptize the innocent.’ I was freaked out. I thought he was actually gonna do it.

And then yesterday, you waited until the last second to call it off! What the hell? Couldn’t you have done something during the TWO HOUR hike up the mountain? Or maybe when he was tying me to an unlit bonfire? You waited until the knife was above his head. He was about to kill me. I literally shit my pants. Then I had to walk down a goddamn mountain with shit in my pants. It was horrible. Can you please stop? By the way, are you going to Cindy’s party this weekend? I’m thinking of stopping by. Let me know.

-Isaac

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Duncan Lamont is currently in college studying to be a professional Goofball. He is failing horribly. Duncan can be found on Twitter at @DuncanLam0nt