Fw: Please Remove Your Essays Immediately!

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Dear Editor [REDACTED]:

Please take my essays off from your site. I am disappointed to see that you’ve stolen half of my articles and decided to put them on your blog. This must stop today. If not I will inform the police of your location and have you arrested for your crimes. I would like to take this moment to explain my back story and why this injustice must be corrected:

I was born in an old cabin along the path to Hell. The winds that blew around that town did not allow for any travelers to reach me in the end. Hell had a population of $1000 before the storms swept in. As the world grew older, the net work of Hell grew. However I still was too young to even care about the economics of Hell! Before I turned five, my father had abandoned me. As he was known as the prince, I would eventually grow to being a prince as well. My kingdom would be the cabin along those woods. Some of my first memories were seeing the different people speed along that highway. I noticed that some would speed towards the town, while others seemed heavily hesitant. As a child I feared the town and could never actually enter it. When I was old enough to start school, my mother drove me around the suburbs. I was taught in the classrooms about the different places on Earth and the history of the interactions of cultures. Around the age of 12 I could remember it being a huge deal that the population of Hell had surpassed one million dollars. I wasn’t sure that year this translated to though.

My life became more interested once I finished their school system. I became a traveling artist against the will of my parents. I had traveled up and down that one path many times. I didn’t know there were other paths to Hell but I knew this was the speediest route from the other side. The artists I met along my days were the most talented people I could think of. One even talked about leaving and going the opposite way along the path. He was the craziest out of us. He didn’t had any money to add towards the total net worth of our hometown. His art was never understood. Hell! I didn’t know what he implied by the sounds he played. Eventually I had enough money saved up to buy my own cabin along the path to Hell. My girlfriend at the time became my wife and before I knew it, I was raising my own prince to follow in my footsteps. When my child reached the age of 4, the population of Hell was surpassing the Trillions. Either there was a massive inflation of people, or the newer generation decided that Hell was the trendy vacation spot.

Later in my life I grew tired of the fast paced life with my friends. I decided to go behind the new typewriters and move to a life as a poet. I moved away from the path into an area of morality that couldn’t be explained on a map. My friends couldn’t find me and I forgot the memories of my dead wife. These poems mean the world to me and in publishing my poems on your site you are violating my life’s work and disrespecting my title as the Prince from the path of Hell.

Signed,

Prince Path of Hell

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About vurinstitute

Horatio Somersault is the Director and Regent Chancellor of the VUR Institute, a think tank involving some as-yet-unknown and slightly spooky manipulations of time and interdimensionality. In his spare time Somersault enjoys writing poems and fables. You can read his writings, as well as those of other VUR inhabitants, at vurinstitute.wordpress.com. Though he lives a wanderer's life, his hometown is a domed biome inside the water core of the moon Europa. You can follow his experiences adapting to the customs of the early 21st century on his Twitter @VURdirector and can email him at vurinstitute at gmail dot com.
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