Dear Dr. Frankenstein,
I am writing you this letter because my therapist said it must be done in order to bury the past. Not to sound sarcastic, but I do confess that I dig up the past occasionally. However, I certainly do not go around digging up people! For a smart doctor, you completely lost all intelligence by letting Igor pick out a brain...don't you think? Oh, that's right - you didn't think!
Anyway- I have forwarded to you the proper forms that demand your attention immediately. The psychiatrist says that I must provide a detailed synopsis of my birth and early childhood. He doesn't believe me when I tell him I was born a grown man.
Apparently my intense fear of electrical storms has caused unhealthy stress...not only to this stolen heart inside my chest, but to my mental stability as well. I have tried on various occasions to explain that a direct bolt of lightning was responsible for my being, but, alas, my doctor refuses to accept my outrageous chronicle of my creation. Imagine me- an eight foot man hiding in a seven foot closet when a storm begins to brew!
I'm sure you can understand why extreme shyness has manifested itself in my persona. Eighteen-thousand, one-hundred and fifty two stitches leave quite the scars. And, for crying out loud- what is with with the neck bolts anyway?! Even the best turtle neck sweaters from Lands End will not cover those rusty appendages.
My bride left several years ago. She got that hideous streak in her hair dyed and started covering up her scars with some fantastic makeup. Pretty soon there were men flirting with her.I realize they found her attractive- in a sick and perverted sort of way. And I suppose they could give her things that I couldn't. (That is another bone I need to pick with you. If you know what I mean.)
However, despite those setbacks, my life is improving as time goes on. I got hooked on Phonics, was awarded my GED, incurred a job washing airplane windshields, and finally got rid of those frightful lead boots. I have started running ( in my new Nike's) and am in better shape than the ten men that I am composed of.
I have no regrets of my amazing birth and no animosity toward you or your lab assistant. There have been so many breakthroughs in science in the past century- that I can help but wonder how things would have been if I had been born fifty years later.
But- excuse me- there I go again- reflecting on the past. My doctor would not approve of my clinging to things that cannot be changed.
The best to you and yours. Please sign the papers in duplicate and return in the prepaid envelope.
I will see you Halloween night.
Sincerely,
Your son Frankenstein
