IN WHICH TINTIN IS PROFOUNDLY HONEST

To whom it may concern:

First of all, let me begin by telling you all how deeply, deeply excited I am.

While I think it a bit mad that I should operate this way, more often than not I am simply too excited to pay my level of excitement any mind. I consider myself very fortunate indeed to possess this level of excitement and also the resources to make good use of it - "The cleverest and most spirited of boys should always make time to receive a thorough f-king," as the ever eloquent Captain puts it, and while we do occasionally have our differences, it is the one thing in all our years together that we have steadfastly agreed on.

Ah, but this is not what you expected, is it? I certainly did not, the first time I troubled the dear Captain none other than for my own benefit. I found myself unexpectedly impressed by his ability to discern between my usual token charity and garden-variety selfishness, just as I found myself unexpectedly laid out and set straight like fine china on a dining room table (interesting story, actually; the dining room table is the very place this little intrigue of ours first unfolded, but I digress).

The point I am trying to make, gentlemen, is this: while I may cry in alarm and bewilderment when the Captain clutches my waist in his great big hands and slams me down onto his considerably tremendous passion however many times it takes to see me to pieces, having me over is a pleasure you will never experience; even if your desire is as superfluous and silly as merely extracting information from me – though I am fairly confident after what you have just read you are fantasizing about taking more from me, if only for a few moments. Fortunately for the last remaining vestiges of honor you struggle daily to maintain in your line of work, I will be halfway to the border by the time you have completed this paragraph; so you may as well finish the whole letter (you most likely need to sharpen up on your reading skills as is).

I was not anticipating at all that my relationship with the Captain would burgeon into such a production, but it was also a pleasant surprise to discover that my subsequent one-track mind (despoiled and bursting at the seams with questionable intent as it may be) would lend itself in any way to my career – to averting biological warfare, nonetheless! I am positive if Dr. Freud were still alive today he would have a thing or two to say about this!

See, for as I sit here in my holding cell with this poor abused typewriter you have provided me (shame on you by the way, for keeping it in such a deplorable condition), bemoaning the loss of the Captain's loyal presence by my side (and his essence all over my face and mouth, just between you and I) I am revealing nothing of particular importance to your aims, because my brain finds nothing more important than these delectable goings-on, even under the influence of your so-called 'truth serum.'

In fact, the only real truth here is that my imagination is so deeply corrupted should I make an attempt to actually find the knowledge you require on another level of consciousness, as I am doing now, I simply would not be able to escape my debauched temperament. If you don't believe me, right now my efforts are only evoking memories of the Captain when he first began educating me on how to conquer his 'mast', so to speak (I am proud to inform you that I can now take on two, possibly three times as much as the average young man of my stature and inclination is able to!) and a recollection of an incident which involved a telescope being used improperly (I would love to elaborate further on this as it is quite a titillating tale but then I'd never get out of here, and despite my curious condition of virtually never having a moment in which I am not aroused I do have work to get done and colleagues to catch up with – one does what one can).

I do very dearly hope you too can find individuals who drive you as wild as my sailor back home drives me – though I am admittedly guilty of finding absolutely priceless the image of you all having to study this letter in depth many times over before inevitably filing it away somewhere, for you never know! I may very well have encoded the answer you seek within this admission. The best part is that you will never know, and thus will be forced to review my exploits again and again and again, probably forever. Perhaps you may even gain a deeper understanding of my rather distracting plight, if you get a rise out of this sort of thing. Quel plaisir!

I hope you can now see how it stands to reason that my mind remains perpetually and firmly clamped shut to even the sweetest coercion because it is far too busy picturing my legs opening eagerly upon even the most brutish of demands from my love. I'm afraid that's just the thick of it. Life is funny like that, I've found.

And so it is on this note that I bid you adieu and take my leave out of the window you neglected to inspect the bars of for corrosive oxidization. I am baffled by how common an oversight that is in these sorts of places. Regardless, I am finished here, and raring to get home and make up for the lost time, if you catch my drift.

Ciao.

Tintin