The Last Letter
Friday, June 06, 2008
My grandfather had this amusing tale from his youth in the later years of the Twenty-First century. The world had briefly witnessed a revival of High English; which began its decline in the turn of the Twentieth century and died out in the next, only remaining in classical literature like the Harry Potter Saga and the Bridget Jones' Diaries; and the dying art of letter writing seemed like it was poised for an unexpected turnaround in its fortunes.
However, it was not to be so. Fingers long used to the familiar feel of buttons were unfamiliar around the contours of a pen. While the populace struggled, the finest letters were written by historians and connoisseurs of classical literature but the numbers were too few. So, it was with a heavy heart the Post Master General of the world decided that it was time to pull the plug. Post offices around the world were instructed to work round the clock to clear their backlogs within seventy two hours.
As the Post Offices commenced their final duty to the world, the world watched. There was only one question on everyone's minds. Who would write the last letter of all humanity?
As the hours counted down to the deadline, everyone waited with bated breath. Would it be a passionate, poetic missive from a lover to his beloved? Would it be an erudite discourse on the ancient Greek war strategies from a historian to another? Would it be a letter from a loving son serving in the battlefield to his mother?
Rumours that the Last Letter would be probably sent from a Post Office in the autonomous region of the East Indies spread, probably because of the region's notorious bureaucratic delays. The Press rushed to the region and sure enough, the Last Letter was waiting to be sent in the Post Office of the Capital.
It was delivered to a teenager in a neighbouring state. The Press broadcast the contents of the Last Letter of humanity. It was written in an almost unintelligible scrawl, with the hand that one presumed had never held a pen before in his or her life.
It read : "hi aryan... i lost ur email address... can u mail it back 2 me?? luv, kalki".
posted by foogarky @ 11:15 PM,
4 Comments:
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At 1:17 AM,
Oro?? Nani?? said...
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the best one yet!
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At 3:00 PM,
Mihir Pathare said...
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This is brilliant! And I have a sad feeling it might actually happen. :(
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At 9:41 AM,
Unknown said...
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rofl... amazin man... this rox...
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At 12:00 PM,
Chittz said...
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ha! so true!
- Anthropomorphic Personification.
(My name is longer than the comment! o.o)
The Author
foogarky
foogarky is the pseudonym of the fictional construct who battles for supremacy with other constructed personas in the mind of a crazed individual. He describes himself as a man living in a non descript house in Rio De Janiero, Brazil with two dogs and a parakeet.
About This Blog
The Loony Lampoonist serves to parody, spoof and satirize everything that needs to be parodied, spoofed and satirized. Due to the fictional nature of this electronic journal, any anecdotes appearing here ever so often that seem to be personal in nature, would suffer from the effects of conflicting personalities, the creation of fictional events and the inclusion of non existent characters who did not make it to the big league in the author's literary works. Thus, the Loony Lampoonist is also a purgatory for characters and ideas that have missed the limelight.
