Author's Note: I really need to get a life.  What is this?  My tenth fic?  WOO HOO, TWO DIGITS!  YEAH BABY, ROCK SO HARD!  It's just depressing when you think about those---dare I say it?  Three digit writers!  OH HORRORS!  It's scary to think that they can write so much.  Ah well.  Here it is.  The strange beginning for something that snuck up on me from the depths of my imagination, grabbed me in a headlock, and threatened that if I didn't post this I would never see the light of day again.

          Which is kind of ironic, come to think of it, because here I am in my dark, dark computer room, posting this.  Hmm.  Now why doesn't that make sense?

Disclaimer: I don't think I own anything in this fic.  Wow.  I usually add a couple of characters ... They're always kind of deranged females with unusual hair colors, actually ... Famous, Adrienne, Callahan ... My god, I just found a pattern!  I am good!

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There was a letter sitting on my kitchen table.

It hadn't been there this morning, I was sure of that, yet here it was in the middle of my kitchen table.  I rarely got letters, and the few I got were usually in the mailbox.  As one would expect.

This one was different.  Special.  Terrifying.  There was a sealed envelope sitting on my kitchen table, and I had no idea what to do with it.

So I pretended it wasn't there.  That worked for a minute or two as I hung up my jacket and took a piss in the bathroom, but when I came back into the kitchen I saw it and remembered.

There was a sealed envelope sitting on my kitchen table.  It had my name scribbled across the back: Bumlets.  Bumlets Hilton, the boy who was too scared to open an envelope he found in his apartment.

Open it.

I was NOT going to.  I was going to make my dinner and avoid looking at it for as long as possible before curiosity overtook me and I actually picked it up.  Yes, that was what I would do.

Curiosity overtook me extremely quickly.

I slowly lifted the yellowing envelope from my table, reaching over my peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  I wouldn't be surprised if I dropped the letter, my hands were shaking so badly.

I also wouldn't be surprised if I died of a heart attack by the time I hit 25 years old.  I'm a completely paranoid lunatic.

So, with trembling fingers, I broke the seal on the envelope and shook the contents onto my table...