Seventeen Year Old Girl writes to Kim-Jong IL and asks him to blow up Toronto

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The Perfect Thing

Dear Kim Jong-Il:

How are you? I’m not sure you’ll get this letter, or if you do, if you’ll even read it, but the smallest chance that you will is worth it. My name is Sherry Delgado. I live in Canada, you know, that country north of the axis of evil. Lately it has been outdoing the axis of evil in the perpetration of those everyday acts of evil. I know that sounds strange, but I have a feeling that if anyone will understand, you will.

I’m seventeen years old, and I go to Ted Rogers high school in Toronto. It’s in a neighbourhood called Moss Park, maybe you’ve heard of it? Yes, the school is named after the man who started the telecommunications empire. Corny, I know, but whatever.

I bet you’re wondering why I didn’t email this to you. Well, I would have, but my mother took away my internet privileges because I was chatting up this creepy old man. You know, flirting with him and stuff. I would never meet such a dirtbag; I just tease them to torture them. So here I am, snail-mailing this to you because my mother’s a bitch. I hate her and her new boyfriend. They’re all goo-goo ga-ga over each other, and it drives me nuts. Like, if either of them had a life, they wouldn’t need to dote on the other’s every whim. It’s disgusting.

I should get to the point, because you’re the great leader and probably busy negotiating some South Korean movie star hostage exchange for some nifty weapons technology. That’s right. I’ve heard about your power moves all the way here in Canada ;). Of course, all the papers and the television news here make fun of your size and the way you look. They think you’re pretty insane, what with all the authoritarian communism and stuff. I swear every report talks about how poor the people are in your country, how they’re all starving like they’re robot idiots who don’t even know how to grow rice and vegetables. But I know better; I can see through their dirty propaganda.

My point is actually not a point, but a favour I want to ask of you. I know, you’re probably thinking, who does this little peon Canadian girl think she is, asking a favour of the great leader? But hold on a minute. You might enjoy this favour. When you get your nuclear missiles all ready, and you’re about to shoot on the capital of the axis of evil, could you maybe miss a little? I mean, could you shoot at least one so it falls short and hits Toronto?

Now you’re probably thinking that I’m going to ask to be brought to North Korea and be saved, but I’m not. I want to die with everyone else. Why? It’s complicated.

I hate how people treat each other here. Everyone’s always cussin’ on each other, or fighting, or shooting up the neighbourhood, or shooting drugs into their veins in the park to take away the pain of living in this screwed-up world. Either that, or they try to make someone else miserable so they can feel better about their own lives. I’m sick of it all. I think a clean slate would benefit this place in a big way; a huge white ball of fire and a beautiful mushroom cloud is just the ticket. Do you know that expression? Song-nah at school told me that most Koreans speak English, so I assume a great man like yourself does, but I don’t know if you know all these slang expressions. “Just the ticket” means the perfect thing. Anyway, I have a feeling you would understand me perfectly if you read this letter.

You might wonder why I don’t want to be saved. It’s because I’m part of all the awfulness, and if I lived, I would probably spread it.

If you feel like Toronto doesn’t deserve it, remember that our banks were stable during the recent recession. You know, the worst capitalist crisis since the great depression? Or maybe that’s just another lie. You never know these days who is lying and when. Anyways, if it’s true, then they were probably stable because they were screwing with someone else’s numbers. People can control computers remotely nowadays and everything. Crazy, eh?

I will let you go now because I know you have important things to do. I really hope you get this letter. If you decide to do this little favour for me, thank you thank you thank thank you thank you thank you thank you.

Yours eternally and gratefully,

Sherry Delgado