Hope this letter finds you and the gang all well. Daisy is still recovering from a bad case of flintlock, as you may have heard, and Anton and Selma have been taking shifts on the bellows all night just to keep her stable. We'll be sending out photos of her just as soon as we can get her nostril swelling down a bit.
The bile storms have taken a great toll here. We lost half the crop to the pellets, and most of the other half was taken by wolverines. We're still hopeful that the remainder will fetch a healthy price at the market though, thanks to a vigorous program of sabotage and assasination of other local farmers. And Anton says he's whipped up a combination of bubonic plague and free-floating anxiety that'll have the entire county on its knees before the end of the month.
We lost the codebook, so we've been sending the messages to Uncle Pavel in cleartext, if you know what I mean. Hope this doesn't get him into too much trouble!
Well, I think I hear one of the kids catching fire again, so I'll have to wrap this up quick. Best wishes to you and Liz with the napalm collective, and mother wants me to ask you to let her know what she should do with the mojo bag you left in her sock drawer - she wants to throw it out because it's stinking up the place. Write back soon! XOXOXOXO