Dear Sandman

My feet hurt again, today. I must have stepped on them too hard. Apart from that, nothing is new or interesting in the Rat's Nest. I have discovered that even small amounts of sugar have the power to keep me awake at night, and that the birds love eighties pop. Also, three minutes is too long to heat a samosa in the microwave. It gets all smokey and nasty-smelling, and then the fire alarm goes off. Oh, and my rent has been raised by fifty dollars per month.

Dear Sandman,

Not to be a pest, or anything, but I haven't slept properly in ages. I stared at the ceiling for more than an hour last night, and still you didn't come. I thought an incredibly boring book might do the trick, but there wasn't enough light for reading, and I got a headache after a while. As for you, well, you were still nowhere in sight, though dawn was begreying the sky. I rearranged my pillows six times, and my body twice, and only succeeded in stubbing my toe. It was ghastly, I tell you. I was bored out of my skull. Do you have any idea what they show on TV at four o'clock in the morning? Infomercials, that's what, and reruns of very unpopular sitcoms. Does anyone, anywhere, think The Parkers is funny?

At any rate, I'm just wondering where you are. Did I do something to honk you off, or are you just asleep on the job? Ha, ha--asleep! Isn't that a hoot? Can I expect you this evening?

--Socar

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Dear Socar,

I am currently holding a piece of paper up to my modem, and crumpling it to simulate static sounds. 'Fraid you're breaking up, old bean. What was that? Drat--seems I've lost you.

Regards,

--The Sandman

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Dear Sandman,

Very funny. Now, get your arse down here.

--Socar

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To that, there was no reply.