Dear Sir,
Further to nothing in particular here are my credentials in
relation to the clause marked ‘Muffins – Savoury’. I have been working with
these delicacies for 357 years, more or less since the French revolution,
whichever is the more impressive. This has meant that I have had to sustain my life
force for longer than the average human being but I hope this shows you how
committed I am to the concept outlined in the document you have never received.
I hope to go on to sell these products on the Moon due to
the forthcoming space tourism explosion, although I appreciate that my use of
the word explosion here is metaphorical and in no way relates to any
malfunctions in the fuel cells of the intended lunar transportation modules.
That would be bad for business.
By being ahead of the game in this way, my proposal is
watertight, as you will see from the container the paperwork was enclosed
within which can be obtained by divers or intelligent aquatic creatures under
the Pacific Ocean, near the boat with the yellow flag.
To this end I accept the offer of one billion pounds which
you would be crazy not to offer me as a result of this excellent and terrifying
plan. As you will be aware from the messages you have received from me
(attached to the brick that came crashing through your bedroom window at
precisely 3am this morning) you are the only person who shares my passion for
newly baked concoctions served at zero gravity so I will trust you will say
nothing to anyone, lest of all me, about what you do or do not know.
If these conditions are not met then your human brain will
be confiscated and offered to my associate, should I run out of his usual cans
of Moroccan Tuna.
Your humble servant,
HC Dragon
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