“05-26-20XX

[insert name of next of kin here]
[insert address of next of kin here]


Dear [insert next of kin name here],

We are sorry to inform you of [insert deceased soldier here]’s untimely death in the service of the [insert name of faction here]’s fight for [insert cause for fighting here]….”

It would probably start something like that, an informative letter to inform you that that your little worthless henchmen/soldier for the “evil” army I whole heartedly dismembered without any remorse, what so ever, has died. I mean, c’mon the loser was attacking me. What the hell was I supposed to do, just stand there and take it? (Hell no, is the correct answer, if you were wondering.)

But I’m not writing this to degrade your failure of a son/alien freak; I’m writing this to the parents of said son/alien freak, who raised the now dead son of a bitch. And if the parents aren’t alive to read this, well hell, the world's a better place...And I didn’t take into account that such an idiot would have siblings….



First of all, what the hell went through the mind of you guys while you we’re getting busy, huh? “Oh, when we have a child, let's turn it into a useless kill statistic for some hot-shot gun toting hero who can actually aim worth a shit.” What kind of parenting is that? If it were me, I’d set the kid up with a Gameboy Color and some Cheetos, like a normal child, and not condemn him to death because the “Deceased” pay plan is good.

But if you absolutely must, at least have the little porker trained to fight before you send him out to yours truely. Little idiot didn’t even pay any sort of attention when I blew about six or seven shot gun shells in his back, and then knifed the fucker in the neck, in which he then proceeded to scream in agony like the retard he is. I mean, even my own teammates are pretty retarded at times, but hell, at least they know to duck out of the line of fire after getting shot a couple times, unlike your worthless offspring. He must love the smell of lead up his ass, huh?



Speaking of love (not really), what the fuck did you feed this kid? Why the hell is your kid so fucking super human, yet so fucking dumb? I’d love to know the diet you had this dumbass on, because if anyone can take a couple of well placed samurai sword slices to the chest and not come out with a scratch on him, you must have done something right. But gee, do you think you can put more effort into learning the kid some common sense instead of all of it going to personal health care? Wait, what am I saying, your little tyke is already dead; you’ve gone and fucked it up before it even started.

Cripes man, the guy didn’t even have any friends when I met him. I don’t know if I shot ‘em all or something, but, there he was, all lonely and crap. I shot him dead anyways, but it made me feel a little sad on the inside. Hell, even I have friends that back me up and show me where to go, and I even help them get back on their feet. Did you shelter this kid so much he didn’t have friends? Was he an obnoxious fatty-mc-fat-fat because of all that nutritious food you fed him? Or did he just suck at life, and even if he did, wouldn’t you help the man get some game? Don’t leave a kid hanging with no game, set him up with some Santana DVX or some shit, Jesus.



I guess what I’m trying to convey here in this, hopefully thought provoking letter, is that don’t try shit like this again, it’s just not right. Don’t be a dick, have sex, raise a clinically brain dead idiot who’s built like a tank, send him off to evil corporations who honestly do not require his services, let him do the training program that won't prepare him for the onslaught that shall be my wrath, let him write letters about how he’s going to be some sort of war hero and swat down the oppression, and please, for the love of everything that is right with the world, know that I’m done killing jackasses like the one you raised;

Don’t let him die. It would be unpleasant.