Flair, My love. It has been a bazillion and two years now. You were
never good at math though. I have indeed spent all your gold, but those
diapers you wear are a vashnarian wool blend and the cream for your
false raja teeth (that stuff they make out of gorshire goose grease and
iguana droppings) is expensive. I don't control Sapience economics, my
dear. I don't mind your hair falling out, but please can you stop
looking at me through the bottom of a tequila glass? I think it distorts
your view. Anyhoo, I loved you as a Tsol'aa and I'm so happy you let me
kill you (the best part was that final scream as you sloughed off into
nothingness)...what was I say again? Oh yes, but I love you even more
now old cat. You and the elephant you rode in on.

Penned by my hand on the 21st of Lupar, in the year 417 AF.