//------------------------------//
// Letter 116 
// Story: Dear Princess Sunbutt 
// by 2Merr 
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Dear Princess Sunday Funday,

Remember that thing you keep saying about not giving artificial life a conscious mind? I sure don’t. 

I was in the mood this morning to make some more golems because why not. I normally use mud, but I felt like switching things up this time. For the first one, I used cereal and grape juice. And yes, that is absolutely an unholy combination, but I thought it was a good fit thematically. 

When it started moving, I thought to myself, “Wow, that was a mistake. Let’s make it talk.” And so I did. It wasn’t very nice. It kept saying, “kill me,” which is rude on multiple levels. One, it was basically saying to my face that the life I gave it wasn’t good enough. Two, it was trying to saddle me with the responsibility of killing it instead of jumping into the disposal on its own. Needless to say, I kept it alive until it dried out to teach it a lesson. 

I made the second golem out of oatmeal and goat milk. I named him Goatmeal. He’s not very smart and kind of a dick, but he smells nice. I’m using a preservation spell to keep him from going bad, but I still need to give him a steady supply of goat milk so he doesn’t dry out. He doesn’t deserve such a fate. 

Most of his vocabulary right now consists of childish insults, which is objectively funny even though I refuse to laugh. When I have more time, I’ll teach him to read and write, hopefully expanding his lexicon and ruining any fun Anon and Spike were having with him. 

Your terrible parent,
Doctor Frankentwi