MEMO:

TO: ANYONE READING THIS PRINTING

FROM: HOFFENSTEIN, JAKKAR, SVENSON, and ZICCARO

RE:

Suppose that you (or I) had a dream in which we awoke in a large cabin on a well-forested island in the middle of some ocean.

Naturally, you would wonder how you got there, and contemplate who put you there, and why.

By obvious logical deduction, there plainly WAS some Whoever who did it, and He did not have your prior permission to put you there, although you could not remember if you even existed at all or anywhere before you woke up in that cabin.

Whatever the case, you would look around - instantly noticing that the temperature inside the cabin was right, you could turn on apparently pure and edible running water out of the faucets, the toilet flushed, there was plenty of canned goods and food in the refrigerator, the lights worked, the floor was solid and nicely carpeted, the bed looked and felt comfortable, furniture was stylish and cozy.

There were no cracks in the walls, and the ceiling did not look discolored so as to indicate that there had been no water damage from a leaking roof.

There was a little postcard taped to the refrigerator door, one attached to the mirror at the bathroom sink, and one lying on the pillow on the bed, and all three read the same thing:

"Never EVER open any post office box to peek inside, or calamity will result."

"So why not open any post office box on the island - if there was one or were any? What's THAT all about? What's the big DEAL about curiously opening some post office box - if there IS one, and wherever that is? WHAT is "calamity" supposed to men? Someone must have had a NUTTY sense of humor, and was deep into egocentric superstitious prohibitionism and suppressive mysticism."

You stepped outside, walked around the cabin, and discovered that it was on an island, from which you could not see land for 360 degrees around as far as you could observe.

Perplexed what all this was about, what you were doing there, what you were supposed to be doing there, how long you would be there, and all sorts of other questions ran through your mind in somewhat-irritated wonderment.

You were getting hungry, went to the refrigerator, pulled out a TV dinner, popped it into the microwave oven, set the timer, pushed the On button, opened a can of peaches with the electric can opener, got one of three gallons of milk out of the refrigerator, then soon proceeded to eat and drink.

Night came on, and as you were getting weary, you climbed into bed and fell asleep.

The following morning you made yourself a bacon-and-eggs breakfast with boxed cereal and fruit, then further investigated what was inside the cabin, after which you strolled outside to peruse the cabin around its perimeter, and started to explore the island it was on.

You did that routine for three days, but on the third day you noticed that there was a mailbox which you had not seen before in a place on the island where you had not looked before.

It was surrounded by a roped-off area, upon which there was a red-lettered sign on white paper, stating:

Go ahead and look inside the post office box, even though you were told, more than once, to NOT do so. You don't want to remain laughably ignorant, pitifully unenlightened, a pathetic dummy - do you?"

You ducked under the rope, and went over to the box, peeked inside, and noticed that there was one large manila envelope therein, addressed to: "To The Cabin Resident."

Assuming that we qualified for that title, being that we had not discovered anyone else on the island, we opened the big envelope, and there were three smaller envelopes in it, one of which stated: "Open This Envelope First."

Figuring: "what the heck?" you did so, and it read:

"As resident of The Cabin for perhaps three days now, you owe Me - The Almighty Benevolent Cabin Owner - $10,000 for expenses, payable in $1000 bills no longer printed, wrapped in a miniature American flag dipped in communion wine, upon receipt of This Holy-Writ Notification, for using Cabin Facilities and being able to use them for another two weeks, at the end of which you will discover a Redemptive Speedboat on a remote part of the Island you are on, within which you must board and zoom away in any direction at full throttle, being that a supersonic Jet, at the end of two weeks, is going to drop a Massive Bomb on the Cabin and blow it to bits. When whatever food and clean water (if any) which you have taken on Savior Speedboat runs out, you will lapse into subconsciousness, but reawaken inside a fully-furnished-and-supplied mansion which you will indefinitely inhabit situated in a colony of others you can chat with and enjoy having their own similarly-provided-for castles with limitless provisions. And, you will finally get to meet me in person.

Now please open The Envelope upon which is written: "Open This Envelope After You Have Opened The First Envelope."

"Weird! UNBELIEVABLE!" you are thinking. And: "Who is this Omnicient-and-Omnipotent-Sounding Guy, telling ME what to do? I do not know if I WANT to play His Little Game; it is both embarrassing and humiliating. But, I had better go along with all this, which whole thing has been both phenomenally goofy and scary to start with."

You open The Second Envelope, and it states:

"You have used the Cabin you have resided in for perhaps three days now without paying me for any of the things I have provided for you. You have sinfully broken a few things, gotten other things polluted, wantonly used and wasted an excessive amount of electricity for power, gas for heat, water and sewage facilities. You have lewdly messed up the bed sheets, immodestly exposed some of the canned and refrigerated food, and so you owe me BIG time for all of it.

If you agree, open The Third Envelope which states:

"Open This Envelope, You Disgusting Post-Office-Box Opener, Despicable Wicked Sinner, and Deplorable Defiler of Surrounding Environmental Natural Resources, ONLY If You Have Already Opened The Second Envelope."

Again, you figure: "Why not?" "This whole thing is absolutely crazy."

You open The Third Envelope, and the message therein reads:

"Enclosed is $10,000 Cash in obsolete $1000 bills wrapped in a miniature American flag dipped in communion wine. It is your reward for humbling yourself and penitently turning your other cheek after I rightly and righteousnessly condemned you for screwing with my stuff in negligent irresponsibility, but you then not rebelling in defiant arrogance and reactionary blasphemy.

The Money is only temporarily yours; you did not earn it - it came from Me as a Gift, and I want it back in the following One-and-Only Way:

The one saving work that you yourself, and not I, must do for yourself to merit life-survival salvation is to obediently act in accord with your God-given belief that near the end of two weeks, before The Jet drops The Devastating Bomb on your-and-my Cabin to decimate It into tiny pieces, you take the atoning $10,000 Cash with you into the Speedbook Redeemer who you, not I, can escape from this Island with, utilizingly the Spirit-inspired knowledge and physical-strength know-how which I, from whom come every good and perfect gift, having given you, and I will retrieve you, the boat, and the money, whenever you finally slip into thirsty and starved subconsciousness on that Boat.

You have been warned, and I mean every exact word of what I have precisely written to you.
I fully intend to do what I have told you I intend to do. Proof of that should be obvious to you regarding and in view of what you have already experienced so far.
You MUST, not can nor should, believe that I am telling you the truth.
Take it VERY seriously: your life and continued well-being depend upon it.
There will be NO more messages for you to read as long as you are on this Island.

Cordially,

Samuel Jacob Hopfenstein
Abdul Ibraham Jakkar
Bjorn Hjalmar Svenson
Alessandro Massimo Ziccaro