Dr. Williams,

Pay attention. Listen to me. If you refuse to acknowledge this, you are denying you have a heart. Do you have a heart, Dr. Williams? I often wonder this. Here, you let people live without eyes, without tongues or feet. Is it possible you have a hollow spot behind your sternum?

Mother says I should be forgiving, but I hate you. I hate you forever. You know the cruelty you force upon us, but you don’t care. You don’t care if you hurt us. You are blind to people’s emotions. That’s not right. That’s not human, and that scares me. Oh, God. Your mind…something’s not right with it. Why else would you unmercifully slaughter us? Slaughter…what a word to quiver about. Like we’re chickens for a feast. I hate you, and I want you dead. I refuse to be injured by you. You won’t get me. You don’t know how much I want to live, how much I want, my life, all our lives, at peace – except yours. You deserve to die, unlike the rest of us who have HEARTS.

You think you’re so intelligent, having a Bachelor’s degree, but you’re not. You’re an idiot.

You jerk! Inflicting fear to receive power – how dare you! You are not someone to be fond of, not someone to look up to. I refuse to salute to you. I will never obey your evil commands. I will restrict, and if I’m tortured for it, you will regret it, because I will fight. If that time comes, our rein is over, Dr. Williams. Over. People working for you are loyal in their words and tasks completed but not their brains. They know what’s right. They don’t have the outrage, the indignation, simmering in my clenched fists.

Yesterday, returning from the market – the only one not controlled by you until today – I saw your picture plastered on the Post Office window. Even printed, your face makes people uncomfortable, slinking away, clutching themselves in places you cut off for your power. No patrols were there, but I yanked the picture. I didn’t want to have to look at your ugly face, your evil stare and devious, crooked smile. I sat on the curb, tearing and ripping. Then I dumped the scraps in a muddle puddle, spit on your eye, and ran home.

I am fed up with you, Dr. Williams. Dr. Williams, you better not watch your back, because I am going to stab it so you will be sorry.

Either step down or I will push you down without pity like you do to us. But harder.
-
George Greenery


Dear George Andrew Greenery,

Ah, how I admire your young fire. Come; I will greet you at my entrance.

Your rival,

Dr. Williams