Hi Father

John Parker was a wealthy architect from Alabama. He was also on a raft and on fire and on a rug. The clouds were too circular. They looked like somebody was going to replace them, later, but forgot and then said, "screw it". The water was hot and reddish green like chemicals, and it stunk like old flowers and tar and plastic. The map wasn’t in the raft anymore. It was gone. There was no current in the water. There was no moon. It hadn’t come up today because of the celestial body show in Pittsburgh. Now, “Alan” was the architect’s name and he was a little smaller and not so impressive. Black oil from the garbage barges was welling up in various places, which magnified the toxic smell in the air. Alan laughed, because he had forgotten, or maybe never knew, that the minister was on board. “Hi father!”
They came to a place in the river that had really thick weeds in the water. The weeds were 4, 5.5 and 7.0189 inches in diameter, and that was just the first few. There were thousands of weeds and I don’t have time, or time might not have been allotted, to measure them all for this story. The weeds part is over, now. It was going to be a bigger part with more characters, but I lost interest shortly after typing the word “They” and just before the word, “came”.
Now, it’s paused. Look at the raft; it doesn’t look real. The men look real, but they are too big, and the edges are messed up. Now I’m putting quarters in the machine, and voila, the raft is moving, again.
Look out for fire breathing spiders and lazy apes and a man with tire irons for arms. He is Timothy Kitchner. He is also, “Dan Beard” and “Ross Manwich”. He’s most likely gonna be in the bushes posing as a character from when I was a kid, called, “Tommy”, who had a clown wig. He changed his base from water to oil, so now he is oil based, and now he is boil faced, and he has a blue wind-breaker and a bike helmet named, “Lest we forget”.