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Dear Mother

It has been a year since i left to pursue my dream of becoming a Captain of the Eastern-Pacific Fleet. The days in the service were uneventful for awhile, but ever since the Admiralty commanded us to patrol the area near Hawaiian islands, i have started to be afraid for my life. It all began when me and the crew went ashore to have some fun in a local tavern. Once we left the docks, a sight most miraculous was laid before my eyes, as something i`ve never seen before, the roadsides adorned by coconut trees reaching for the skies from all sides, dragging me into the deepest memories of childhood of a school sponsored tour where our teachers walked us through the Grand Canyone , prositutes of all races imaginable has been gathered here akin the legendary city of Babylon, their cries "Ochinchin daisuki!" resonate through the thin air. Among them there was two particular night butterflies which struck my fancy, Lo Wang, the beautiful chinese seductress, which used to call me dearly, "Mai pryushie raion", and Roxie, a ladyboy from the shores of faraway island of Sakhalin. After the boys have started drinking and wenches filled said establishment, i was quietly sitting at the corner table, playing my Nintendo Switch and throwing occasional glances at the stand-up comedian trying to cheer up his audience, the elderly man with a broom of a hairstyle rambling about on the little wooden stage: "I kid you not, he turns himself into a plushie, he calls himself “plushie Yuni”, funniest shit I’ve ever seen". And thats when the mysterious man made his entrance. Hidden behind aviator sunglasses, with a patch of grey already showing on the fringes of his hair, he did not introduce himself, but later i`ve found out what the locals gave him the nickname "Boomer", apparently the guy was a demolition expert during the Nam times or something, but to cut it short, he offered me to play a role in some kind of a movie hes filming. He offered me a good amount of money for that, which i kind of needed ever since i lost to that damn Jenkins in poker(swear ive caught him cheating, but other players were on his side, and assured me he did not. Might`ve been a setup of sorts, the people here are very eager for money). So anyways, he took me to the place where we were going to record the thing. (You can easily recognise him by that outlandish vehicle he drives, a twisted kind of a lawnmower lookalike with a cart attached behind, not too different from the rovers which plough through the surface of the great celestial bodies in the skies above) Along the way to the ominous site of cinema making, he was constantly snickering and muttering under his nose, i could not understand the entire sentence, but he mentioned some girl named Sakura which was doing stuff to a certain "fishe". When we arrived however, and  once my companion, that Ahabic eidolon informed me of my supposed role i was going to enact in this sickening pact with what i could`ve very well consider a Satan embodied, i was stricken with terror, because apparently he wanted to put me in a dreadful cage not unlike an unearthly device from my deepest nightmares, and sail me into the sunset. When i asked him how was he going to retrieve me back, he became visibly confused and told me he was going to worry about it later. So i took the money and run, run far away, but im afraid he tracked me down for during the night time i can hear the sounds of a surfboard circling around my room.

It is now 6:22am, i am lying in my bead soaked with my cold sweat. The sun is rising, the sky to the west was streaked with red and orange. It is beautiful and peaceful. The scent of seaweed and Monster Energy Ultra Zero™ permeates my room. I hear the sound of tiny pebbles hitting the glass of a porthole in my room. On this most disturbing of sunrises, i cant help but wonder how is Dad feeling himself? Did hemorrhoids not affecting him anymore? Has my dear brother Esteban finally enrolled in that college, to study computer science as he always wished to, or is he still spends all of his time shut in a room, consuming tendies and speaking only to his so-called "Internet" friends, whom he met through that satanic machine you and dad were so foolish to gift him on his birthday when he turned ten?  Of course, i will not find it out anymore, mayhaps in the next life if such a thing truly exists, and now i am ready to meet my ultimate end, for when the seagulls cry, there will be none.
Yours dearly, Charles Kotowski.