A Letter to Shevlin

SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEVVVVVLINNN!!!!!!!1111

GET IN HERE RIGHT NOW!!!

RIGHT!!!

Okay. Thankyou for joining us. Basically, the crilching loam has been unsprunctified. We need twelve munch-bairns to reassimilate the twelfth crypton-gate at the south wattling. Is that underesplendent?! Good. Right. Basically, we need to undermine those bastard krovnchnies that will be waiting for you just as to kerspiddle north of the Underbloaming Trelch Fukner. I can't say it any better than that. I'm sorry, Shivlan, but you'll just have to reignite the brumn-fortress. It takes me much time to have sexual antrimetrics in the soul-fragellator, and if that's not twice-thristed and once-bloamed by at least 32:45 TREE-EGHM in the moon-tang we're going to have a serious mroblems with your spelk. And I mean it. I know we've had this conversation before, and we're going to have it again and this time I'll be sploaning for it to mean fristmas.
But of course, I don't want to to that. The least I'll be remandating with on this splok-Asian will be the pre-spattling of your loaned garment apartments. You'll have to sprit through nine fine truldge fliterries and won't be the funnest of fun-dunneries, I can have you knownst of thot, howayvier, all these thingies and many muchies are part and parcel in spittled spittling of a job in the maroon dreaming, telt-barging world of Quasi-Plazi-Intermandaplanestellatory Resplemanhectodatory 'Loaned and Heltringer 25.CCS' Ultra-Transflamutating Corps and Trorps Co&Sons. You knew that when you didn't sign up, and you know it then.
Back to the flatter, patter and matter in hand- (IN HAND!!1 *see app. 43 for details of punnatory gestatory intermanagement portfolio?!, sorry- undrift.) the rhyme, lime, and seasoning reasoning for this little oh-so-and-so-so Harold-in-Italy venturement de couf le buerre (as the french say) must ultimately be traced back to our long and longissentiory broam-tustling with those fresky little Ook-Mins. The planet-star of Cora-Interra, as you know, has long been the opti-gasm of the Anti-Resparastellatory Uninterrassertainated Filch&Moors-sponsored and thrice-bloamed Heltringer Deviatory Devious Sect Corps of the Uniformal Elite Police Brigade Task Force Generation 12.3259 Squadra-leagua Decimus. I am asking you, in short, to make flamn and damn and oh-so-shackle-me-thrice-broamed-in-the-trouser-splintage sure that not one fuck-swaddling, belch-maddening, underafloaminated cunterswazzle can torskivate themselves where they oughtn't and shoughtn't to be (in free and maddled swartaflarst.)
Can you bake this for me? Titsaddle me back by the Culth of Nive, north of Sutra and wife of Merionetsata.

Many thanks,

The Bewledge of Min